The Great Escape
by Witchy Bee
Summary: AU: Surana escapes the Circle with Jowan. Aided by an unlikely group of allies who soon become dear friends and perhaps even more, they embark on a journey that will take them from the city of Andraste's birth to the City of Chains.
1. I: Apostates And Sympathizers

**Title:** The Great Escape I: Apostates And Sympathizers

**Pairing: **Jowan/f!Surana friendship.

**A/N:** What if the PC was a blood mage, too? What if Jowan escaped with her instead of abandoning both his best friend and Lily to their fates? Please review if you like it. Or not.

)O(

_~ Part One ~_

Emma had heard the rumors that he was a blood mage. And now Jowan was in a relationship with a woman who was practically a priestess. This was, obviously, forbidden. She wondered if Lily knew the truth. Why would a Chantry girl agree to escape with a blood mage?

No, Emma sees the love in the human woman's eyes. She is blissful in her ignorance. She has no idea the company she travels with. It isn't fair, but Jowan never has been very good at thinking things through. That's why she has a bad feeling that this plan is a trap.

Emma had passed up the chance to betray him. She could have marched into the First Enchanter's office and told him everything. She could have explained in detail exactly what he and Lily were planning to do and her part in it. But then what kind of a friend would she be? The elf can't let them take Jowan's emotions. That is beyond cruel. Besides, she is a Harrowed mage now, and they don't make Harrowed mages Tranquil. It just isn't done. So even if they are caught, Emma only has a death sentence to look forward to, which is preferable to that kind of torture.

As she stands there in the Phylactery Chamber, she wonders how exactly this doesn't qualify as blood magic. The templars use the mages' blood to track them down should they turn apostate. They are hypocrites.

And Emma is just a tiny, cynical woman.

Jowan lets the fragile glass vial slip from his fingers. It shatters on the ground. The spell is broken. He is free at last. Emma wishes she could say the same.

Suddenly, she wants to leave this room more than anything.

The moment they emerge from the basement, Emma knows something is terribly wrong.

Everything happens so quickly. One second, Greagoir is yelling while Irving stands there and frowns like a disappointed father, and then the templars are closing in on Lily...and...

"I won't let you touch her!" Jowan shouts, stabbing the blade down into his own hand with as much force as he can. He cries out in agony and begins to manipulate the blood, knocking Greagoir, Irving, and the templars back several feet. Lily is stunned. Emma had seen this coming.

Lily doesn't want anything to do with him, now. She could love him as a mage, but not as a blood mage. All of them are hypocrites.

Then he turns to Emma. And for the first time, she sees just how terrified he is. There is no getting out of this.

"Come on!" he says, frantically, pulling her along by the hand. His hand is still bleeding, she can feel it. Something about this is not right. They just keep running.

Somehow, perhaps by magic, they make it out into the blessedly cool air of Ferelden. Her robes are soaked, either from the swim across Lake Calenhad or the rain that pours down on them now. Emma's head is spinning and she desperately wants to stop and catch her breath. But they can't afford to stop now. The templars still know where she is and it is likely that they are on the trail at this very moment. The thought makes her run faster.

They don't stop running until the sun is beginning to fall out of the sky, which is now streaked with shades of orange and purple. The rain has stopped. Time even seems to stop. The world goes very still and Emma and Jowan allow themselves a brief rest.

"Emma-" Jowan starts, shattering the perfect silence that up until this moment had only been disturbed by their ragged breathing.

"Shut up." she orders, careful to keep her voice quiet. "There will be time for those kinds of conversations later. Right now we have to focus on survival."

"I was just going to ask if you were hungry." he lies.

"Starving," she says.

Emma tells him to get a fire started - which isn't difficult for a mage - and goes off to find something remotely edible. Her search isn't helped by the fact that it's autumn and everything is dying. Animals have already gathered up the last bits of food for the long winter, leaving nothing for humans or elves. Ferelden has always been known for its inhospitable winters. In a few weeks, snow and ice will blanket the ground and they'll freeze to death.

She'd read in a book once that the dwarves ate nugs, which apparently were adorable and delicious little things somewhere between a pig and a rabbit. What she wouldn't give to have one now. Unfortunately, all Emma can get her hands on are a few elfroots, some questionable berries and half of a dead bird.

"I never thought I'd actually miss the food at the Tower." Emma says as they pick at their own small bounty of semi-edible ingredients. If they'd had a large cooking pot, they would have thrown everything in it and waited until it looked even more unappetizing, as was Ferelden custom.

"Yeah," Jowan answers, obviously uncomfortable with any mention of the place that once was their home and prison. Then he falls silent again, and Emma knows he is thinking about Lily. He feels as though he has abandoned her. He cares for her still and wants to know if she is all right, despite the fact that she now hates him for being a maleficar. Jowan then asks suddenly, "What are we going to do?"

Emma figures now is as good a time for this conversation as any. There's no reason to avoid it.

"I don't know," she admits first. "But we need to destroy my phylactery. If we don't, then it will be too risky to stay together. Not to imply that there aren't any risks in going to Denerim and breaking in to the Chantry's secret stash of phylacteries..."

And just like that, they have a plan. It's a desperate, insane, and altogether stupid plan but they have no choice. She'll be a marked woman until this is done. What do they have to lose anyway?

"I'm not going to let them take you." he declares. He won't lose another person he cares about to the templars. And if by some miracle from the Maker, or more likely one of the elven gods, and they actually are successful in this mad scheme...Well, they will have to disappear. Leave the country; maybe go to Tevinter or the Free Marches. Somewhere that looks more kindly towards apostates. But Emma supposes she's getting ahead of herself.

"I know." she replies.

That night, the elf stays up and keeps watch while Jowan sleeps. It's only fair since she is the one being hunted, not him. Well, that's not entirely true, but she is the one more likely to be found first anyway.

Emma's pointed ears perk up when she hears a rustling in the trees. Probably just a wild animal, she tells herself, but she grips her staff just in case. Her heart starts to pound in her chest when she realizes the sound is getting closer. Magic surges through her veins, waiting to be manifested into a bolt of lighning to strike down her mysterious foe.

"Show yourself!" Emma orders, hoping her voice sounds vaguely threatening instead of just as frightened as she feels. The noise wakes Jowan, who jumps to his feet and reaches for his own staff. He assumes, as she has, that the templars have found them.

"Have no fear, I am not a templar."

A man materializes from the shadows before them. He is clad in simple leather armor, his hands held high to show that he does not have a weapon, and a good-natured smile on his face. Emma doesn't know what to make of him.

"Then who are you?" she demands.

"I'll get to that." he says hastily. "Just, please, lower your staves."

Emma still isn't sure if they can trust this man, but she does as he asks because she is still a mage and thus does not require a staff to kill something or someone, blood magic or no. Jowan reluctantly does the same. Then the man begins to speak.

"Thank you." he says, still smiling. "Now, I'll get right to the point: I represent a collective of mages interested in going about their lives without the constant scrutiny of the Chantry. When I saw the light from your fire, I thought perhaps you folks could use our assistance. Not many people choose to go camping this time of year, especially not with darkspawn in the forest."

It's a miracle, she thinks at first. But then it occurs to her that this could very well be a trick. He could be a templar in disguise. Though, she had never know the templars to do things like that before, so why would they start now?

He offers to take them to a safe house the Collective has established in Denerim. When they arrive they can discuss the matter of her phylactery. Suddenly the plan doesn't seem so crazy with an entire guild supporting them. Emma agrees to make the journey in the morning, but reminds herself that she must stay alert. This could still be a potential ambush.

Jowan is wide awake and decides to take watch while she and their new arrival get some much needed rest for the many hours of walking they will face tomorrow. It will take days to reach the city...

Emma closes her eyes and slips into the Fade, content in the notion that Jowan really will never let the templars take her.


	2. II: Never Again Shall We Submit

**Title:** The Great Escape II: Never Again Shall We Submit  
**Pairing:** Jowan/f!Surana friendship.  
**A/N:** Note that these particular events take place pre-Ostagar. Hence why it is not Zathrian's clan they encounter. Again, please review!

)O(

After a small and horrible breakfast, they embark on the first leg of their journey. This is when Emma discovers that their new friend has the rather annoying habit of whistling as they travel. So annoying, in fact, that she catches herself contemplating several times whether or not he really is too important not to zap, even if he is their only ally.

Jowan doesn't seem to notice the man's whistling. But then, he's been off in his own thoughts all day anyway.

Emma realizes that maybe she wasn't exactly being sensitive before. He had dragged her into this whole thing...But she was still his best friend, his only friend, and she hadn't been acting like it when he'd wanted to talk. She will have to make it up to him somehow.

By late afternoon, they reach the outskirts of the Brecilian Forest. According to legend, a great battle had been fought here long ago. The numerous deaths that took place caused the Veil to tear, allowing Fade spirits of all kinds to roam free about the land. They are said to animate the trees...

The very idea of this place makes Emma's skin crawl.

"We're not actually going through the woods alone, are we?" Jowan asks. He is just as unnerved as Emma herself.

"Oh Maker, no!" their friendly Collective representative assures them with a laugh, though she doesn't really see what's so funny about any of this. "Rumor has it that there's a clan of Dalish elves camped nearby. If we can find them, maybe they will give us some supplies or a place to rest for the night."

From what she knows of the Dalish, that is unlikely.

They are nomadic tribes scattered to the wind. Unwanted by most of society, they keep to themselves. They worship the ancient elven gods, speak what precious little of their forgotten language they know, and try to piece together their fragmented lore. The humans took the Dales, and Arlathan before that, thus the Dalish were left to wander.

Dusk has settled by the time Emma spots the smoke rising up from their fires and hears the solemn singing.

"Halt, outsiders, you intrude upon a sacred rite. You must leave."

A woman stands before them with her bow at the ready. The words are spoken firmly but there is an edge to them, a certain sadness that is reflected in her eyes as well. She is mourning. The entire clan is in mourning, in fact. The Dalsih are like that: whenever they suffer wounds, either emotional or physical, they will retreat into themselves like an abused animal. And now the whole clan is retreating into itself. Emma knows the feeling. Maybe it's just an elven thing.

"I am Emma Surana, formerly of the Circle of Magi." she tells the hunter. "My friends and I are seeking temporary refuge amongst your people. I understand this is a lot to ask, especially at this difficult time, but please consider our request."

The hunter looks them over for a moment longer, then sighs and mumbles something about going to get the keeper. Soon, she returns with a white-haired woman, her eyes deep with wisdom and regret. She is a mage, Emma can tell. So it isn't just a rumor: the Dalish have magic, too. She figures they must, and is very impressed with how masterfully they elude the Chantry's templars.

"You may rest now, Atisha."

"Ma serannas, Keeper." the hunter responds. Then she is gone and they are alone with the leader of the Dalish.

"Atisha told me that you wish to stay for a while."

"Yes, Keeper," Emma answers.

"My name is Marethari. I am the keeper of this clan's lore. I am its guide, and it is my job to make sure that no harm comes to my people." Marethari sighs and suddenly she doesn't look intimidating at all, just a tired and grieving old woman. "It's a job I have failed at. Sadly, my failure has cost two of our own their lives. I can only pray that Falon'Din delivers their souls to the Beyond."

_Falon'Din, Friend of the Dead..._

"I'm sorry for your loss." says their human representative. Marethari stares at him. They all do.

"Thank you. That...is very kind." the keeper is just being polite, Emma knows. "I would not normally do this, especially not tonight, but...I believe it is what Lyna, at least, would have wanted. She was perhaps too merciful for her own good."

Emma nods, pretending to understand.

Everyone appears to be huddled around the fire. She can't tell if they are listening to a story or telling stories or just sitting there. Emma notices the graves; two plots of freshly turned earth side by side with flowers and gifts laid out for the spirits. The Dalish do not cremate their dead. Their spirits do not go to the Maker.

The keeper takes them to her landship, or aravel as she calls it, and says she will have someone bring them something to eat. It's better if no one sees them yet, she says, since some Dalish don't take kindly to strangers and this is not an easy time for them right now.

And they are alone again.

"How do you suppose they move these things across the land so fast?" Jowan wonders. It's the first time he has spoken in hours. "They don't have horses..."

"They have halla." Emma informs him. _Sod it._ "You've been very quiet."

"Oh, have I?"

"Yes." She stands up, suddenly and inexplicably furious. "So why don't you just tell me what's wrong?"

Jowan blinks at her. "Why are you mad at me?"

"Because, you idiot, I miss talking to you!"

Silence falls then, and Emma isn't sure if she has just made things better or worse. She shouldn't have said anything. So much for not being insensitive.

"Oh." Jowan says softly.

At that moment the hunter from before, Atisha, enters the aravel with food that looks and smells a million times better than anything they could have cooked up on their own in the wilderness. It tastes better, too. If it weren't for the fact that Jowan is barely speaking to her now, Emma might even feel optimistic.

)O(

In the morning, they are treated to more excellent Dalish cuisine. The clan welcome them a great deal more warmly than Emma had expected. They give her a set of leather armor so that she won't look so much like an apostate anymore. There's even some human-sized armor laying around for Jowan to wear. Apparently it had been salvaged from a bandit attack that didn't go too well for the bandits. The Dalish had no use for the armor except to trade with shemlen, and so they let him have it for free.

Their generosity is surprising. Not just because Dalish elves are supposed to be barbarians and savages, but because they don't typically care to deal with outsiders.

With the armor, they look more like two mercenaries and a strange Dalish girl, which will still make them stand out in a crowd but it's a lot better than looking like two apostates and a mage sympathizer. The Dalish also give her some plain clothes to wear when she arrives in Denerim. That way Emma can sell the armor for a bit of coin, and then they will just be two men and an elf. Nothing at all unusual about that. Keep moving, nothing to see here...

As much as she hates to leave, they really must be getting underway. Like the Dalish, they can't afford to stay in one place for very long either.

"You look so much like Lyna, you know."

Emma turns to see an old woman gazing at her from the bench she's sitting on. Her eyes are red and puffy from crying, but it seems the tears have all dried up since.

"What is your name?" the old woman wants to know.

"Emma..." she answers, feeling a little uncomfortable.

"That's an Elvish name. Did you know that? It means 'my' or 'I am'..." Emma did not know that, but she does now. "My name is Ashalle."

"Does that mean anything?" Emma queries, which actually makes Ashalle smile.

"Not that I know of." she says.

It is obvious that Ashalle wants to continue talking to her, but Emma isn't very good at comforting the mourning. She will never be Lyna, no matter how much she might resemble her, and so there is nothing she can do for Ashalle.

So she runs away.

Jowan, Emma and their whistling lunatic say farewell to the Dalish clan as the sun rides at its peak. They must go onward, through the wilderness, to Denerim.

They never expect the disaster they will find. Ferelden does not expect it either. Somewhere far to the south, a great battle is about to take place, a battle that will rip the Veil to shreds. And the consequences of it will reverberate through the nation for years to come. Emma could have seen it happen. She could have been a hero if things had been different.

It's a good thing they are not.


	3. III: Safe Haven

**Title:** The Great Escape III: Safe Haven  
**Pairing:** Jowan/f!Surana friendship.  
**A/N:** There will be some Awakening characters you may recognize in this chapter. Reviews are much loved!

)O(

They are not prepared.

One moment they're walking through a clearing. Emma is trying to ignore the whistling and suppress homicidal thoughts, while Jowan seems fixated on the sky above them. The next moment, the whistling stops and this startles her. She looks straight ahead only the see the twisted reflections of men.

They are not undead, but nor are they quite alive either. No soul inhabits the body. They do not fear for themselves, only existing to serve the whims of their master. Emma has never seen a darkspawn before. It's a monstrous creature, but hopefully mortal. The darkspawn brandish crude axes and rusty swords at them. Her breath catches in her throat and she prays magic can save her now.

All at once the monsters charge towards them. Emma gathers her willpower and zaps a human-sized one as it lunges at her, causing it to stumble backwards. If she can only disorient the creature enough...An arrow sails past her ear and she regains concentration. The humanish darkspawn from before is back on its feet, but it has lost its weapon. Instead, the beast brings a large fist down hard upon her skull.

The pain quickly turns to rage and suddenly her hands are alight with fire. Emma projects the flames towards her foe, fueling them with anger. The darkspawn wails and sinks to its knees where it wriggles helplessly like a fish without water.

She needs lyrium but they have none. Emma willl soon be powerless save for the blood in her veins.

"Jowan," she calls out, "Blood magic!"

"I can't!" he yells back.

"Yes, you can!"

"No, I mean, I've given it up!" he elaborates. _Damn..._

"You might have mentioned that before!"

"I'm sorry!"

Emma has no choice now. She pulls her own dagger from her boot and slices one palm open. The blood bubbles up instantly. It still burns from the remaining energy of the fire spell as it finds the monsters' corrupted skin. Their black eyes widen in horror as their blood begins to boil in their veins. It won't be long now.

When the last of the darkspawn are dead, Emma scans the clearing. Their tainted blood is already causing the grass to wilt. And lying a few feet from her is their only ally: the Whistler. He certainly isn't whistling now. In fact, he is moaning in pain, which is somehow even more annoying.

She crouches down and tells him to be silent, not because it is necessary but because her head is already throbbing as it is. His wounds look worse than they actually are, just a few scrapes here and there and a broken arm. Even a novice healer like herself should be able to fix him up.

Emma coaxes him into sitting up by promising to give him something for the pain. The sadistic part of her wants to just knock him out and be done with it, but as tempting as that is, she needs him ready to move as soon as possible.

"Hold still," she says, gently taking the fractured limb and focusing all her energy on mending it. This works well for a while until she realizes that the Whistler is entirely too close and, in fact, his lips have been applied to her own. For a second the elf's mind goes blank and she can't remember what it is she's supposed to be doing. Then she pushes him away with all the strength of a small woman. The Whistler falls back into the grass, putting all his weight on the broken arm, and screams.

All Emma can think to say is, "Serves you right!"

"Sorry..." the Whistler replies sheepishly. "I just thought...I don't know...maybe...you..."

"Oh Maker..." Emma suddenly begins to feel dizzy and feverish. That is when she realizes that blood loss and a blow to the head might not be the best combination. The grassy field seems very inviting and she can feel herself falling...

"Emma? Emma, can you hear me?" Jowan is there but it's becoming harder to hear him. "Stay with me, okay? You can't fall asleep. Do you understand?" Emma gets the impression that this is very important. Her friend's voice is tense with concern and panic. But the Fade has never looked so beautiful. "I'm so sorry, Emma," Jowan sobs. "This is all my fault..."

And the world is enveloped by blackness.

)O(

Emma regains consciousness a few times, but never for very long. All she really remembers is the sensation of floating...

But then she awakens with a feeling of clarity and only a slight mental fog still clouding the very edges of her mind. For a while, she doesn't bother to open her eyes. Her skull feels like a darkspawn is hitting it repeatedly with a hammer. The elf's hand still aches as well, and there is a bandage wrapped around it. She isn't worried about scarring though since the cut was made over an existing scar anyway.

Emma is surprised to find that there is a roof over her head.

She is even more surprised to find that she is not alone. Jowan is hunched over in a chair beside the bed, snoring quietly. He looks so tired that Emma almost regrets waking him.

"Jowan..." the elf hisses. His beady eyes flutter open and he straightens in the chair, gasping for breath. He looks awful. "You look awful." she says.

"I had a terrible dream." Jowan explains. "Lily was...screaming. They were killing her, Emma, and then you were there and you...you kept telling me to run..." tears well up in her best friend's eyes. "I just watched. I watched them hurt her. I couldn't move...I couldn't look away...I couldn't...save my dear, sweet Lily..."

Emma doesn't know what to say or do. She knows that if she speaks, she will ruin everything. Jowan cradles his head in his hands and cries. He cries for all of them.

And she waits.

"We raced to Denerim after you...Well, while you were sleeping." he finally says. "It only took a few hours. Thankfully, we didn't encounter any more darkspawn. The safe house had a healer so..."

Emma nods, reaching out to take his hand. "Get some rest. You're exhausted." she commands. She doesn't know what else to say. Jowan seems uncertain about this, but eventually does as he is told.

Once she is sure he is gone, the elf throws back the covers and gets out of bed. Her knees wobble for a minute before agreeing to support her weight. There is a metal basin on a table. The water in it is lukewarm, not quite refreshing or relaxing, but she splashes her face a few times anyway. Emma stares at herself in the mirror. She does not do this in a narcissistic way, however, especially since the image reflected back at her is just so weary and scared.

_So now the templars are trying to take my youth from me as well, _she thinks bitterly to herself.

After raking her fingers through her copper colored hair a few times, the blood mage gives up on making herself appear presentable.

Then the chantry's bell begins to ring again and again and again until it nearly drives her mad. She cannot possibly understand why such a thing is even necessary. It doesn't help her headache much either.

A door slams somewhere in the house.

"I swear I'm going to skin this sodding cat someday!" a female voice yells.

"He's not so bad..." a man's voice protests. "You're just cranky."

"It's hard not to be cranky in these times, Anders." the female voice sighs.

A few minutes later there is a knock at the door. An elven woman with blond hair walks in, a tabby cat trailing closely behind her. She shuts the door much softer this time.

"Did you sleep well?" she asks. Emma nods. The other elf half-smiles, "I'm glad to hear it."

"Where exactly am I?" Emma queries nervously.

"You're in my house," says the woman. "I work with the Collective, providing accommodations for mages such as yourself. Don't ask how I got mixed up in all this, it's a long story and you'd be bored by the end. You can call me Namaya."

Emma introduces herself, unsure of what to think of this Namaya person. Can she be trusted? It is anyone's guess. She is on their side, however, and for now that is enough.

Namaya says she has some unpleasant news: the king is dead along with the Grey Wardens and the army at Ostagar. Supposedly, the Wardens betrayed King Cailan to the darkspawn and Teyrn Loghain pulled his troops out just in time. That is the official story anyway. None of it makes sense to her. Grey Wardens are sworn to defeat those monstrous creatures and yet they would side with the enemy? Not likely...

But Denerim is in chaos and willing to believe just about anything.

The whole thing is starting to give Emma a headache.

She is not prepared. She is not free. Apparently there is certain protocol, paperwork that must be filled out before someone can be found who is willing to risk everything to destroy her phylactery. Until then, Emma must wait.

But for now, at least, she is safe from _them..._


	4. IV: Bonded By Circumstance

**Title:** The Great Escape IV: Bonded By Circumstance  
**Pairing:** Jowan/f!Surana friendship.

)O(

The house, as she later discovers, is a decent size but rather plain. Not that Emma claims to have much of an eye for interior decorating having spent most of her life in the Tower. Even the wooden frame and imperfect wood floor is preferable to cold stone. Plus, Namaya is a pretty good cook, too. She likes Namaya immediately. The other elf seems to have a personal grudge against the Chantry, but she insists it is a long story and Emma does not ask.

Emma hovers in the kitchen doorway, watching a blond man with a golden earring spread jam on a piece of toast. The smell of fresh bread had lured her out of her room. Now Emma feels very much out of place. He's a mage so he can probably sense her presence anyway.

"Hey, you're up early!" the man's gaze settles on her and his eyes light up brighter than she ever thought eyes could. "How are you feeling? Are you hungry?"

The elf shrugs. "Why do you care?" she asks, suspicious of his motives.

His smile falters a little. "Well, perhaps I wanted to see if my healing skills have improved at all." the blond man pauses. "Or maybe it's because we're going to be housemates. At least until the templars track me down, that is. I'm Anders, by the way."

"Emma," she says. "So, they still got your phylactery as well? Join the club." The blood mage takes a seat across from him and serves herself some toast.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, my dear lady." Anders says.

"No, it's not you, it's just..." _He is not the Whistler._ "It's nothing." The toast is delicious. "And to answer your questions: I'm fine and I'm starving."

"I hear you." Anders smiles again. "All I want is a pretty girl, a decent meal, and the right to shoot lightning at fools." he says, then winks at her. "I already have two of those things."

Emma can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. Is he flirting with her? Really? What in the name of the Black City is he thinking? And for that matter, why does this bother her so much?

"You're embarrassing her, you idiot, and you're embarrassing yourself." Namaya scolds him as she enters the kitchen.

"Jealous, Namy?" the healer teases. "You know you'll always be my favorite girl in the whole world."

Namaya scoffs. "You only say that because I'm lettin' you eat all my food and live here for free." Although that isn't entirely true since the Collective pays her a hundred silvers a week for the trouble. It's enough for them to live comfortably, not lavishly, but comfortably. "And I'm starting to think it isn't worth it since your damn cat never leaves me alone!" The feline in question is curled up beneath Emma's chair.

Anders' face looks confused. "But...Mr. Wiggims is taking a nap on my bed," he explains. "That's Joan..."

"Oh." Namaya goes very still. She tries to apologize but the cat is already gone.

Joan, Emma learns, is the name of the shapeshifting woman who resides in the attic and occasionally haunts the rest of the house in animal form. It is rare to see her as a human and even rarer still to hear her speak. Everyone is a little afraid of Joan.

After a while, being cooped up inside starts to get to Emma. She begins to feel like she did in the Tower. Namaya tells her she is free to leave whenever she wants, but it would be wise to use a fake name and avoid any templars.

Jowan is still sleeping when she steps out of the front door and into the blazing sunlight of autumn. She is worried about her friend but now is not the time to think of it. Emma has never seen a city before, at least not that she remembers. There are so many buildings and people and things that at first it's too much to take in all at once. She absorbs each little detail of her new surroundings. It's a beautiful day. You wouldn't even know that almost everyone in Denerim has recently lost a friend or family member or king to the darkspawn, and a Blight still ravishes the land. You wouldn't even guess that Ferelden is on the brink of civil war.

But now is not the time to think of that either.

Emma feels a hand on her shoulder and turns, expecting to see Jowan, but it is not him.

"Did I startle you?" Anders asks.

"Were you trying to?"

He shrugs. "Not particularly," he says. "Do you mind if I walk with you?"

"Not at all." she replies, surprising herself. They are both dressed as commoners, since robes and a staff would be a bit obvious. Anders jokes that he could pretend to be her husband, until she points out the fact that she is an elf. He accuses her of not being fun. She is only being realistic. This isn't a game, after all.

Honestly, she expects an angry mob to be upon them any minute with torches and stones. But no one seems to notice Emma or her companion at all. No one gives a damn who or what she is. No one cares, and it is liberating.

The market district is an obvious place to start. However, it is also alarmingly close to the chantry. Despite her protests, Anders buys her a lovely Tevinter ring he saw the blood mage eying while they were in the _Wonders of Thedas_. There are dragons and runes engraved into the metal, and ancient magic laced through it.

Anders has a way of making her laugh. She hopes the templars don't get him.

By the time they head back to the house, Jowan is awake and appears to have been waiting for them. Well, waiting for her anyway, since he is sitting on her bed when she walks in. He looks well rested but still just as worried as before.

"Where have you been?" he demands to know.

"I went out...into the city...with Anders." Emma replies calmly. "Is that a problem?"

"Yes, that's a problem! Something could have happened to you, Emma, the templars are looking for you! They know where you are! I could never forgive myself if you were put into harm's way..." Jowan sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I just worry about you, Emma."

"I worry about you, too." she says softly.

"I know..." he sighs again. "It's just that...we're so close to being free of all this and I keep thinking everything will fall apart again and it will be a trap or something. I can't lose you, too..."

"You're not going to lose me, okay?" Emma assures him. "The Collective will send someone to destroy my phylactery and then we can go somewhere far away from templars and Circles and this whole damned world if we like."

She is not an Isolationist by any means, but for the first time in a long time, he actually smiles. And Emma thinks that maybe with a little luck, darkspawn or no, everything will be all right.

)O(

"So," Anders says at supper that night, "How many times have you two managed to escape the Tower?"

Emma looks up sharply, slightly confused. "Just the one time," she replies. "It's not something we planned, really."

"Huh, and you made it all the way here? I didn't even get across Lake Calenhad my first attempt. This is my seventh or eighth time out."

"Congratulations, then."

She never has been very good at making small talk.

They continue eating. Emma notices that Joan isn't with them, not even skulking around as an animal. Namaya explains that a Collective representative - hopefully not the Whistler - will stop by tomorrow to look over the paperwork and discuss something else that the blond elf is incredibly evasive about.

Conversation is not without awkward silences. The only thing that they have in common, after all, is the fact that save for Namaya they are apostates. Whether blood mage, or shapeshifter, or spirit healer, they are hunted by the templars. More than anything, they want to be free. They are bonded by circumstance and nothing more.

)O(

At night, this house is very different.

Namaya, in a very uncharacteristic move, is sitting alone in the kitchen and drinking a cup of tea. This surprises Emma because of how very not like her it is. Maybe even mage sympathizers need a little time to themselves every once in a while.

But even more surprising is that, as Emma is walking to her room, a willowy black-haired woman with shockingly dead eyes materializes in front of her. And Emma actually lets out a very short, but loud, scream. The woman, who she now realizes must be Joan in human form, merely brushes past without saying a word or even reacting to the elf's obvious terror in any way.

Emma is no longer sure if this is better than the Tower.


	5. V: The Allure Of Courtship

**Title:** The Great Escape V: The Allure Of Courtship  
**Pairing:** It's a surprise!

)O(

When there is a knock at the door, everyone freezes where they are. Emma can feel her heart leap into her throat. Magic pulses through her veins. At that moment, for just a second, everyone is thinking the exact same thing: _what if it's the templars? _But if it was, they certainly wouldn't knock first.

The round-faced woman is taller than an elf, but shorter than the average human. Her orangeish-red hair has strands of gray at the roots, but her blue eyes are still very much alive with youth and compassion.

Namaya says the woman's name is Irene. She is another mage sympathizer, who manages contracts for the Collective. Irene has never missed a Chantry service in almost thirty years; she simply disagrees with their view on magic enough to do something about it. Namaya, who is a firm unbeliever in Andraste, can't stand the human on principle. But they have no choice but to work together and try to get along.

Emma could not care less who the Collective sends, as long as it isn't the Whistler. Part of her wants to ask after him. Where is he? Has he been reassigned or transferred to another major settlement? Did they kill him because he knew too much or merely let him go? Does the Collective even know what a lunatic he is? But then, asking those questions would be made rather difficult since she doesn't even know his name.

"So how does this work, exactly?" Emma asks instead, eyeing the small stack of papers Irene has spread out on the table in front of her. Irene's face lights up, like that is the question she has been waiting for all her life.

"Well, mages from all across Ferelden file requests with the Collective, and we locate trustworthy individuals who can fulfill those requests in a discreet and timely manner." she explains, beaming, as if she'd thought of the idea herself. "We've also made many attempts at establishing a sister guild of sorts in Orlais. But it isn't easy to set up operations in the Andrastian capitol of the world, especially given the empire's unpleasant history with our dear Ferelden."

That makes sense. The Grand Cathedral is in Orlais, after all, and Ferelden had fought a long and bloody war in order to regain its independence from the empire. People in the Orlesian Circle of Magi do not get to leave for any reason; they are prisoners in all but name. Their only shot at freedom is to become a Grey Warden, but most are not that fortunate. Templars in Orlais, much like the chevaliers, ruthlessly abuse the power bestowed upon them by the Divine and supported by Empress Celene herself.

It sickens Emma. Sometimes she forgets how lucky she really is just to have gotten this far. In the Tower, when she was very young, the templars used to scare her and the other apprentices with stories of Seheron: the land of the fearsome qunari. They are giant, stoic creatures who keep mages on leashes and even cut out their tongues if necessary. A mage is considered an object, a dangerous thing or a defective tool. This sickens Emma, too.

"So you could find someone to destroy my phylactery?"

"Oh, certainly!" Irene exclaims, her eyes sparkling. "In fact, I have a particular person in mind who I think would be perfect for the task."

"Really?" Emma's heart flutters with something that feels very much like hope. "Who is it?"

Irene's plump lips twist into a cat-like smirk. "You'll find out soon enough. I just need to work out all the details and then I will bring them by the house around midday."

Namaya glares at the human over the rim of her teacup. The look in her eyes seems to say, _I__'m not cooking anything for that Maker-fearing tart._

"Can't you at least tell me a little about this person?" Emma persists.

"It's a surprise!"

"I hate surprises..." she mutters, but Irene just grins.

)O(

"Do you have any plans for supper this evening?"

Anders looks at Emma like the fate of Thedas depends on her answer. She knows where this is going, and so she plays dumb.

"I think Namaya is making meat loaf." she says.

"Right, but," Anders' voice drops a few octaves as if he is telling a dirty secret. "I know of a place that has the best shepherd's pie in all of Ferelden. Well, except maybe this little tavern in Amaranthine..."

Emma cannot believe it. He really is asking her to go on a date with him. That sort of thing was and is forbidden in the Tower. Before Anders, the only man who had ever shown even the slightest interest in her was Cullen the Bad Templar. The feeling wasn't mutual. There was a time long ago when Emma thought that perhaps she and Jowan could possibly care for one another in that way, but nothing ever transpired, and then Lily came along. Mages, and especially mages and templars, are not permitted to have relations of any kind. But she isn't in the Tower anymore.

"Fine," she hears herself saying. "But you must refer to me as Mae when we are in public."

Neither of them can afford to jeopardize their freedom, not even for a romantic evening.

Anders is human. As an elf, this should bother her. But he is a mage first, and so is she. In the Tower at least elves and humans are equal.

It's a date, then. He leaves her to get ready and Emma quietly closes the door to her room once more, a smile tugging at her lips. For some reason, she thinks of Jowan at that moment, who has been sulking about like a raincloud. He feels guilty for everything that's happened, and she suddenly feels guilty for being happy. Does someone like her really deserve happiness?

Emma realizes that she has no idea what preparing for a date actually entails. She is at a loss for what to do other than fix her hair. Thankfully, Namaya comes to the rescue. It turns out the blond elf worked as a seamstress for a number of years. She swoops in like an immaculate fashion goddess with a myriad of garments draped across her arms.

They are all relatively old and slightly wrinkled, but each one has a unique charm, varying at least slightly in color or fabric or design from the next. The one thing they all have in common is the distinct scent of dust that clings to them from having been shoved in a trunk and forgotten for quite some time.

The gown Namaya has selected for her is exquisitely simple. It is made of plain dove-gray satin. The garment is form-fitting with a flowing skirt that stops just below the ankles. Her savior also includes a black surcote woven from some sort of impossibly soft wool. Namaya mentions something about the gown's cut accenting her lovely collarbone. If Emma hadn't been so enthralled by the elegance of it all, she would find this quite ridiculous. But as it happens, they don't let you wear fine dresses in the Tower, only robes; the same robes for your entire life.

"How did you know I would need a dress anyway?" Emma asks.

"You really think Anders can keep quiet about something like this?" the other elf allows herself a genuine smile. "I believe there was a song as well. Let me see, how did it go...?"

"I don't want to hear it."

Namaya laughs, "As you wish."

)O(

The restaurant is called _Shartan's Last Arrow_, as a faded sign above the door informs them. Shartan was the elven revolutionary who joined Andraste's holy campaign against the Tevinter Imperium before it fell. He died to free his people, and that dream became reality; the elves were granted the Dales. An Exalted March and a century of slavery later and here we are. Shartan's noble and heroic deeds have been omitted from the Chant of Light, and the only indication that his sacrifice is not completely forgotten is this restaurant, which in a way, reflects the elves' fall from grace.

It is the kind of place a wealthy upper class man might bring his mistress because there is virtually no chance of running into someone he knows. The room is dimly lit with a candle on each table. It is clear to her that the people who come here do so because they value secrecy. She is no exception.

_Shartan's Last Arrow_ seems to cater almost exclusively to those who do not fit in anywhere else: heretics, apostates and general oddities of society. All at once Emma realizes why Namaya dislikes Irene so much. It is because she is so very normal in every other way besides working for the Collective. Irene does not nor will she ever truly understand what it feels like to be a mage, despised by normal people. As an elf, Namaya knows what that feels like.

Irene would not be caught dead in a place like this.

The hostess shows them to a table by one of the front windows. From here, she can see light reflecting off the waves of the Waking Sea or the Amaranthine Ocean or whatever body of water it is that makes up Denerim's coast.

They order two shepherd's pies and a not entirely uncomfortable silence falls. She doesn't know what to say, so she focuses her gaze on a square slab of stone mounted on the wall. Carved into its surface is the canticle of Shartan, a verse not fit for the Chant. It is beautiful to her...

_At Shartan's word, the sky_  
_Grew black with arrows._  
_At Our Lady's, ten thousand swords_  
_Rang from their sheaths,_  
_A great hymn rose over Valarian Fields gladly proclaiming:_  
_Those who had been slaves were now free._

"So tell me a little about yourself, Mae." Anders requests, He smirks as he says her alias.

"All right," Emma complies. "I am socially awkward and emotionally inept. Or maybe that should be the other way around. I'm also an elf, but you already knew that. I love food. I am brutally honest even if the truth hurts me or someone else. I don't expect the same from others. I'm not an enigma. This is who I am."

She is testing him.

"I like an honest woman." he says then.

"You say that now," the elf replies. "But there is a reason why Jowan was my only friend before..." ..._Before I met you and Namaya and even crazy Joan. Before I realized that there were people out there, in the real world, who felt the same way I did..._

Just then the food arrives, and she is thankful to have a distraction from looking into his eyes. Anders had been right: it is the best shepherd's pie she has ever had. Though perhaps her point of view is a little warped since the only thing she has to compare it to is the food served in the Tower.

Emma and Anders settle into a routine of light conversation. They talk and laugh about mundane things until they finish eating and the plates are cleared away. Anders calls the waitress over.

"Bring us your..." he counts his remaining coins, "...third finest wine, please."

_You would be able to afford their finest wine if you had just allowed me to pay for my own meal when I asked! _Emma thinks this, but she does not say it, because she has learned that being on a date means you aren't always honest.

"To freedom!" Anders declares, holding up his glass.

"To freedom," Emma echoes.

Their glasses clink together and she sips her wine, which is still better than anything she ever had to drink in the Tower.

Afterward, they walk along the docks for a while. She can feel winter beginning to seize Ferelden in its icy grasp. Suddenly she remembers running through the forest not that long ago, wondering if the templars or the elements would kill her first.

But soon enough they are standing at Namaya's front door.

"Normally, this is the part where I'd kiss you goodnight and go on my way," he says. "But I live here so..."

"There's no reason we can't still do the first part, right?" Emma shocks herself by asking this. Maybe it's the wine or...

"I like the way you think," he tells her, For a moment she considers backing out, saying she isn't ready for this. Is she ready for this? Magic swells up inside her exactly as it does when she is afraid. Is this fear or something different?

There is no time to consider anything more because their lips meet and then eyes do the same, but without the closeness. It is nothing like kissing the Whistler. Emma forgets the inevitable onset of winter. She forgets who she is pretending to be; the fact that the templars want her head. She even forgets the passage of time itself.

And even though she still does not understand the allure of courtship, there is something to be said for this new feeling, however fleeting it might be.


	6. VI: The Mercy Of Strangers

**Title:** The Great Escape VI: The Mercy Of Strangers

**Pairing:** Slight Anders/f!Surana.

**A/N:** This is a shorter chapter. It occurs to me that if this story by some miracle manages to reach 30 chapters, I will have to have a sex scene because of the roman numerals...

)O(

Sometimes she wonders why the templars haven't come for her and Jowan yet.

It almost seems irrational, all this sneaking around she does, like she is some sort of lunatic afraid of her own shadow. Perhaps she is, but if so, then she's not alone either. Everyone living in this house knows the same fear, except maybe Joan, who is the most obviously crazy one out of all of them.

Maybe they're not coming after all. Maybe the templars don't even care. But that would assume they actually have the capacity for mercy, and she has no evidence yet to support this theory.

It is raining today. Emma has this dreadful feeling that the sun won't come out again until springtime. So she sits and listens as each drop of water falls to the earth below. The elf can still taste Anders on her lips, but she ignores it.

Irene appears out of nowhere, her shoes tracking small puddles of water onto the nice wood floor Namaya had just cleaned. And the Andrastian isn't alone either: she has kept her word.

A dark-haired man with broad shoulders follows Irene into the house, pulling his cloak tighter around himself. Emma sizes him up, as she is apt to do; this is the man who will secure her freedom and carry the burden of something so fragile as her last hope. She needs to know if she can have faith in him.

"You must be Emma Surana." He offers the elf his hand and she shakes it. So he knows her name, Irene has told him at least that much; she wonders what else Irene has told him. "My name is Aedan Cousland." The human man says this like it should mean something to her, but it doesn't.

Emma is so focused on Aedan that she fails to notice the his two companions. The first is a redheaded woman who looks impossibly sweet and maybe even Orlesian. She wears a symbol of Andraste around her neck. Namaya rolls her eyes.

Then there is the one who looks the part of a swamp-dwelling, barbarian witch. An apostate, surely. She reminds Emma of a golden-eyed raven; a clever trickster; a proud and powerful creature.

All but the Witch Woman take a seat around the table. Irene glances at Namaya expectantly, who begrudgingly puts the kettle on the fire.

"So..." Emma starts, not giving Irene the chance to speak first. It's not that she isn't grateful to her, the elf just doesn't want her to speak. "You think you can help me?"

"I certainly intend to try." Aedan replies.

"Why?" she wants to know. "What's in it for you? Is it just for the coin?"

He frowns. "Maybe I just think it's the right thing to do."

"I doubt your friend would agree." Emma points out. "The Chantry is pretty consistent about where they stand when it comes to mages and our place in the world."

"They aren't always right." the redhead speaks up, and she does indeed have an Orlesian accent. Then she asks after a moment, "Are you really a blood mage?"

The elf narrows her eyes. "What if I am?"

"Enough of this!" Witch Woman's voice cuts through the conversation like a knife. A tense silence falls that is only broken by the shrieking of the tea kettle. "Leliana, do not ask stupid questions. Aedan, do not be so self-righteous about all this. There are no right and wrong actions, only choices and consequences. Emma, I hardly know you, but I applaud your decision to rebel against your masters. We will assist you, but you must cooperate."

Irene takes this opportunity to regain control of the situation. She speaks of gold and plans and traps; what they will do and when they will do it. Emma's small part in all this is only to be patient. Irene continues speaking in between sips of tea. _Speaking, speaking, always speaking..._

Too soon it's all decided anyway. The warehouse or vault or whatever will be guarded constantly by templars. They will need stealth, lock-picking skill, and maybe charm: that is what Leliana the Bard is for. Aedan can fight. The Witch Woman, whose name turns out to be Morrigan, is also useful in addition to the fact that she insisted on tagging along because she wished to see what a revolutionary really looked like. Emma is not a revolutionary. She is just desperate; they all are.

Irene finishes her tea and stands up. But before they leave, Emma pulls Aedan aside to talk with him privately.

"Look, I'm not trying to make this more difficult." she begins. "I don't know how much the Collective is paying you and I don't care. I just want you to know that this isn't a game for me. This is my life. I need your help; I'm not used to needing help, least of all from strangers. This isn't easy for me to accept. I can only hope you're not doing this for the wrong reasons. But maybe Morrigan is right: maybe there are no wrong reasons..."

"I think I understand." Aedan says, watching her knowingly. She has her doubts, but it is a nice thought. "I guess you'll simply have to trust me."

"I guess so."

It isn't as if she has much of a choice.

)O(

And she waits. Emma's life succumbs to idleness. The next visitor to their cozy little house of lunatics will either be Irene, coming to tell them that mission has been a success and she is free...or it will be a miniature Exalted March waged on Andraste's behalf. They'd burn the witch and cut out Emma's tongue, at best.

That is the templars' idea of mercy, after all.

Everyone wants to say something comforting or profound. Namaya tries, but the only leash she has ever truly known is her heritage as an elf, so she is at a loss. Jowan knows what how it feels the moment the glass breaks and just for a second anything is possible, but that doesn't help her now. Then there is Joan, who can offer nothing but silence. And last but not least is Anders, who is still as trapped as Emma herself.

She wonders what is taking them so long. More than anything, Emma just wants _something_ to happen, for better or worse. It would be preferable to this horrid limbo she is forced to endure. Eventually, she starts to lose both her patience and faith.

But then it happens...

)O(

**A/N:** Review if you like/hate cliffhangers!


	7. VII: Witch Woman

**Title: **The Great Escape VII: Witch Woman  
**Pairing:** Anders/f!Surana  
**A/N:** Keep in mind that reviews make my day!

)O(

"So how long will you be staying with us, Morrigan?" Emma asks.

Earlier that morning, she had walked into the kitchen only to find a certain apostate sitting at the table.

This occurrence is in no way out of the ordinary or unwelcome, but the Witch Woman is unfamiliar; a stranger. Though she is also one of the strangers who are supposed to be destroying her phylactery.

"Aedan has decided he would rather run off to that wretched mage prison you managed to escape from." Morrigan explains. "I refused to be dragged along on such a foolish errand. That was my choice."

Emma's blood turns cold. What if he tells the templars about her or reveals the secrets of the Collective? Why would he do such a thing? If Morrigan knows anything about this, she doesn't say.

They can do nothing but wait. It's been nearly a fortnight since Aedan left, and everyone's patience is wearing thin.

"I don't get it," Anders says one day. "Why can't Morrigan do it? She's certainly capable enough."

"Because, you fool, I am a _mage_." the Witch Woman states. He looks confused and she sighs. "The templars would be able to sense my presence immediately. They are trained for it. And as much as I hate to admit it, even I wouldn't stand a chance."

"It's rather simple, Anders," Emma cuts in. "How do you keep a mage away from something?" She pauses, though the question is clearly rhetorical. "You make their powers completely useless. Anti-magic wards carved into the stone. Jowan and I encountered that in the Circle while looking for his phylactery."

"So _typical_," Morrigan sneers. "The Chantry has everyone else brainwashed so they don't expect a non-mage to even attempt such a thing. It will be their downfall."

"That's what the Collective is for." Namaya points out. grinning. The blond elf likes Morrigan. The apostate hates the Chantry as much as she does. She fits right in with their odd little family.

Morrigan is cynical enough. And like Joan, she's also a shapeshifter.

She is surprisingly forward when talking about herself, as long as no one asks for more information than she is willing to give. Emma learns that her mother is supposedly Flemeth, the name given to an ancient Witch of the Wilds by the Chasind folk who dwell there. All of Ferelden know the legend of how she mourns her lost beauty and snatches up little children in the night. Some say she is demon possessed. Not even Morrigan denies this.

)O(

Anders comes to her room that night looking moderately worried and uncharacteristically serious.

"So, are things going to be...weird between us now?" he asks nervously.

"No...Maybe..." Emma sighs, exasperated with herself, "I don't know."

They both look at the floor. Something is about to change. Whether it will be good or bad, she doesn't know. But it will happen. The only question is if their relationship can endure that.

"I get the impression that Jowan doesn't like me very much." Anders says then. "The way he looks at me...Well, it's like I've done something to make him hate me."

This, at least, is an issue Emma does understand.

"He's just protective of me." the elf explains. "He always has been, ever since we were kids...And now I guess I'm all he's got, you know?"

"Yeah," he says. "That makes sense, I suppose."

He kisses her, and a part of Emma's mind or heart or whatever wants to beg him to stay. But she doesn't. She watches him go, no more uncertain than before if things truly are all right between them or not.

She does not want to be alone tonight.

This is especially true when Emma is jolted from sleep in the dead of night, her heart racing. She wipes the sweat from her brow with a trembling hand. At first, the elf thinks she's had a nightmare, but that cannot be the case. Mages don't have nightmares, only close encounters with demons while in the Fade.

But that isn't it either.

There is a rush of power unlike any she has ever felt before. It is stronger than blood magic. Emma feels as though the invisible chains she hadn't even realized were binding her have finally broken.

The spell has been broken. She is free. Aedan has done what he promised to do. The templars can't track her anymore.

Emma has never felt so optimistic in her life.

)O(

The next morning, no sooner had they sat down to breakfast, Irene knocks twice before letting herself into the house. She is talking and smiling from ear to ear. But more importantly, she is followed closely by Aedan and an elderly woman.

Emma is at a loss for words. She doesn't know how to express her gratitude. "I don't know how to thank you." she admits.

"There's no need," Aedan says. "I'm sure Morrigan has told you that I went to the Circle Tower. I wanted to see why you were so desperate to escape that life. I get it, now."

He launches into a tale of maleficarum and demons striking down anyone in their path, mages and templars alike. Apparently the revolt was started by Uldred, a Libertarian who Emma had once somewhat admired. He fell victim to a pride demon. It's the oldest story in the book. The Knight-Commander sent word to Denerim, asking for reinforcements and the Right of Annulment - which, Aedan says, explains the lack of templars guarding her phylactery - And Greagoir came very close to killing every last mage in the Tower.

But Aedan and his companions showed up first and dealt with the abomination once known as Uldred.

"You should have let the Circle burn." Emma's words are bitter and hollow. "That's what I would have done." She says this, but just for a second it hits her that everyone who could have testified to her existence prior to a few weeks ago is dead, except for Jowan. It occurs to her that not a day after being declared a full Circle mage, she had become an apostate.

"How can you say that?" the old woman gapes. "Have you no compassion for your own kind? The Tower was once your home. You cannot forget that no matter how much you may wish to."

The old woman turns out to be a mage herself, one of the survivors from the massacre, and not just the madness at the Circle either: Wynne was at Ostagar. Emma doesn't understand why Aedan has brought her here of all places. Wynne is loyal to the Circle, and the majority of people in this room would rather die than be forced to go back.

"I _did_ care," Emma whispers dangerously. "Jowan needed me to help him escape because they were going to make him Tranquil for being a blood mage, and I went along with it because he is my friend. I didn't expect to get out that day, but afterward, I never looked back. I couldn't afford to."

That is all she will say on the matter. Wynne has been under the Chantry's influence so long that she doesn't even realize they are using her as a tool to spread their dogma. Maybe the qunari are right: Emma is a defective tool. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

"There's another reason I went to the Circle..." Aedan tells them. "You probably heard that the Grey Wardens betrayed King Cailan at Ostagar. Well, it isn't true. Loghain made it look to be our doing, and now he is Queen Anora's regent because she's his daughter. Arl Eamon won't stand for it, and if my father was here..."

His voice trails off after that and Morrigan finishes for him. "The Wardens have a set of treaties signed by three major factions in Ferelden: Dalish elves, dwarves...and mages. This guarantees their aid against the approaching darkspawn threat. Though I can't say how many mages are left to fulfill such an obligation."

This is a lot to process all at once. So they are both being hunted, then. Emma does not envy him or the difficult task that he must complete. Saving the world when the world doesn't want your help isn't easy, after all. But it has always been the Grey Wardens' duty to stop the Blight. That is what they are here for, just as the Collective exists so that Emma might continue to exist on her own terms instead of those of the Circle.

Irene cautions Emma about making her presence known in the city for a while. The templars will be even more suspicious than usual. It's not a risk they are willing to take. Then Irene gets up to leave and Aedan announces that he too must go, and Morrigan as well. Emma bids farewell to her savior, the Witch Woman and the unorthodox Andrastian.

Namaya smiles. Anders gives her this look that seems to say, _We'll celebrate privately later. _And Jowan pulls her into a tight hug.

"It's over," he says, practically on the verge of tears. "They can't find us now."

_I'm afraid we're not quite out of the woods yet,_ she thinks to say. But he deserves one moment of happiness. They all do. So instead Emma says, "Yeah...It's over...I'm free."


	8. VIII: The Calm Before The Storm

**Title:** The Great Escape VIII: The Calm Before The Storm

**Pairing:** Anders/f!Surana

**A/N:** This is a short chapter. Review, if you will, and feel free to hate me for this...

)O(

The rest of the day passes in an eerie sort of calm. It's just so strange to live for this one fleeting moment without fear of being discovered or captured or executed. The whole house settles into a kind of relieved contentment. But it cannot last forever. This time is most critical because if the templars are going to find her at all, they will find her now.

Emma is in her room, shuffling about like a ghost in accordance with Irene's advice. She tries to focus on reading a book but her mind wanders off to more compelling visions of distant lands she will soon be able to visit...

Sadly, she can't even remember the last time she permitted herself to daydream like this. Mages aren't normally encouraged to escape reality even occasionally anyway. The templars say it's dangerous.

The templars say a lot of things.

Suddenly, she hears the distinct shattering of glass as what she assumes to be a teacup clatters to the floor somewhere in the house. The noise also shatters the silence and leaves Emma's ears ringing.

A moment later, Namaya bursts through the door like a hurricane, looking pale as a ghost and as frightened as if she had seen one. The only thought that Emma's mind can process is, _Well no wonder she dropped the teacup; look at how badly her hands are shaking!_

Then Namaya is pulling her by the arm, speaking impossibly fast.

"You have to get to the attic. _Now_!" she is saying, "I'll come get you when I know it's safe. Otherwise just wait 'til it's quiet."

There are a million things she wants to ask, but her mouth is too dry to form words.

The next thing Emma remembers is sitting in the corner of a small room with her knees pulled up to her chest. The room has one narrow window, but it is too high to reach or let much light in. A lantern sits untouched in another corner, the oil burned away long ago. There is also a dirty gray blanket spread out on the floor which Emma takes to be Joan's bed. A thin layer of dust covers every surface in sight.

How could anyone but an animal possibly live in such conditions?

These thoughts distract her from panicking for a while. There's only so much panicking one can do all at once. Emma has decided that it can only be the templars. Nothing else would have shaken Namaya like that. But where is Jowan? Where is Anders? Where is Joan for that matter?

A mouse scurries across the floor and Emma must resist the urge to scream. She must be quiet as a mouse, too. But at least it answers that question.

What if the templars catch her or one of her fellow apostates? What if Namaya is arrested for harboring maleficarum? What will they do to her? What would happen to the Collective and Irene? What if all this was for nothing? What will happen next?

Is this truly the Maker's punishment?

Emma runs these questions through her mind again and again, not hoping for an answer, until her eyelids become heavy and she succumbs to an uneasy, sleep-like state. The dreams that result are a blurry, chaotic mix of vivid colors and fuzzy but beautiful music, as if she is hearing it from very far away...

She wakes from all this with a stiff neck. For a moment, the blood mage forgets why she is here. But then the memories flood back, making her want to cry or zap someone. Maybe both. Emma wants to hide, but she is already hiding and the house has gone terribly quiet and still. There is no sound from the rooms below. Nevertheless, she refuses to break down and pray. Namaya would scoff at such displays of weakness. Emma must be invincible like her.

And yet for one frightful second she imagines that she is alone. The templars have taken everyone she cares for and forgotten her. But then she sees Joan in human form, curled up on her blanket, sleeping like a scared kitten might. Emma does not fear the shapeshifter when she is asleep.

She scarcely dares to breathe as she descends the ladder onto the main floor. Emma tries to listen for any sound besides the pounding of her heart in her ears. There is none. Everything is horribly calm. A feeling of dread grows in the pit of her stomach as she silently moves towards the kitchen, inwardly cursing the floorboards that creak with each uncertain step forward.

There are scorch marks on the ceiling; obvious signs of a struggle and a lightning spell gone awry. Templars have definitely been here recently. Emma has no doubt in her mind of that; she can sense the frigid, oppressive energies they leave on everything they touch. It's a cold realization. Part of her doesn't want to believe that any of this is real. It is a dream, surely. It is an elaborate facade spun by a mischievous spirit to keep her dreaming.

Maybe if Emma closes her eyes, all of it will go away...

But it doesn't. The mage knows better than to believe it actually would. Fear has made her irrational. That is the only explanation.

Namaya's back is turned to her. At first she thinks Namaya is making tea or washing dishes or something else perfectly ordinary, but the blond elf's eyes are fixed on something outside that isn't there. She doesn't acknowledge Emma's presence until the blood mage is standing beside her with a hand on her shoulder, and even then she turns her head slowly. The stare is blank. The eyes glassy and haunted, almost unseeing.

"Are you all right?" It is a foolish question. Namaya is most certainly not all right. But seeing her so rattled simply rattles Emma, too. It makes her ask foolish questions.

The reply is so soft, so meek and full of unbearable heartbreak that the mage barely hears it.

"They took Anders..."


	9. IX: Fools Like Us

**Title:** The Great Escape IX: Fools Like Us  
**Pairing:** Anders/f!Surana  
**A/N:** Have I mentioned how much I love reviews?

)O(

"They took Anders..." Namaya repeats.

Emma can hardly breathe. It should have been her. But no, that is stupid: Anders wouldn't want her to be thinking like that.

She braces herself against the table, feeling as if she might faint. Some of the color has returned to Namaya's face and she looks over at the blood mage curiously, knowing she does not want her help right now.

For a long time they remain in that understanding silence. Eventually, Namaya fills the kettle with water and waits for it to boil, just like she would on a normal day. Emma almost yells at her for this because today is so very far from normal. How dare she disrespect that?

But she holds her tongue. It is Namaya who speaks first.

"I need to tell you something," she says, though her voice is flat.

She tells Emma _everything_.

Namaya's father was a priest. Well, technically, that is. A little known fact about the Chantry is that they do not allow elves and dwarves to actually become priests and Chanters, only missionaries. Her father was sent to Seheron. It might as well have been a death sentence. A skinny, defenseless man on a mission to preach the Maker's laws to a race of giant, notoriously hostile heathens?

It was a recipe for disaster, and they all knew it.

Her mother was left to raise Namaya alone. She never attended another chantry service again.

When the blond elf came of age, she got a job at the local tavern.

"Anders always said I could do better." she smiles fondly, "I was sick of being treated like a harlot by drunken imbeciles, so I took his advice and struck out for Denerim. The city is where anyone with a dream and a strong work ethic can make something of themselves, right? Well, I found myself broke and living in the back of a shop. I was working as a dressmaker's assistant at the time; she was a good lady who let me stay there for ten coppers a week, which was about half of my wages."

Namaya fell in with Collective almost completely by chance. One day, Anders turned up in the city and said he needed a place to stay, so they put their coins together and rented a room at the cheapest inn they could find for a few days.

"I don't know how the Collective found out about it." Namaya adds, drinking her tea. "But they set me up with a house and a bit of gold each week as long as I kept my door open to any mages in need." Now she pauses momentarily. When she speaks next, her voice is much quieter and she averts her eyes. "I'm going back to Amaranthine. Maybe if I beg, that crooked bastard Dorak will give me my old job back..."

This alarms Emma. "Wait, why are you leaving?" she asks.

Namaya offers a sad smile. "I think that's where his phylactery is being kept. I'm going to dig up as much information as I can. It's the least I can do. He'll escape again, in time, he always finds a way."

She's lost Anders and now she is losing Namaya, too. It's not like Emma and Jowan can stay either, not with templars most likely patrolling the house, watchful for signs of anything suspicious.

They will have to leave Ferelden.

"Joan will look after things here while I'm gone," Namaya continues, oblivious to the blood mage's internal crisis. Then she looks at her suddenly, like she has remembered something important. "There's an old trunk in my room full of gowns and sashes and things like that." she explains. "You can take whatever you wish. I dread the thought of all those lovely garments just gathering dust, you know?"

Emma nods, but she isn't really listening anymore. She feels as thought Namaya is dying and taking a part of her as well. This is precisely why she does not typically let herself become close to people. First it was Anders, whom she may have even had the potential to love given time; though there never was enough time before...and now this.

"Say goodbye to Jowan for me, would you?"

She nods again. Namaya sighs, then stands up and walks out of Emma's life for what she, at that moment anyway, imagines to be forever.

In just a few short hours their little family of misfits has crumbled to dust; her new life ripping apart like the seams of some old dress.

It is almost funny how helpless she feels with no one to depend on, especially since she spent the majority of her life trying to prove that she was capable of managing herself and that she didn't need the templars or anyone else to control her.

Emma had worked so hard to secure her freedom, and now that it's finally hers, she doesn't know what to do with it. She needs some guidence, some direction...some stability.

The silence is unbearable.

)O(

Apparently, Jowan was hiding in the cellar. That is where she finds him. He is fast asleep on the hard ground with a sack of rice as a makeshift pillow. Jowan has always been able to sleep through anything. It's remarkable, really. But right now it doesn't seem fair that she should have to go through all this alone while he gets to dream about Lily or whatever it is he's dreaming of.

Emma pushes those bitter thoughts away for now.

"Wake up," she commands. No response. "Come on, Jowan, we have to go!" He mumbles something incoherent and she gives up on trying to be nice. Emma summons a very weak charge of electricity to the tips of her fingers, and gently touches the back of Jowan's neck. He springs to life immediately. Emma can't help but laugh. It feels good to have a reason to laugh.

"Works like a charm every time."

"You are a mean person!" Jowan grumbles, glaring at her, but she knows he can't stay mad at her for very long. They both know it.

So she reluctantly relays the details from Anders' capture to Namaya's sudden departure and the harsh reality that they are on their own again. It takes him a little while to comprehend this. She doesn't blame him.

They make their way up the stairs slowly, almost mournfully. The house is the picture of deadness, but memories still cling to every surface. Emma can practically still _see_ Namaya sitting at the kitchen table, drinking her tea just as she did earlier today before announcing her plan to leave the city.

Like a ghost, she picks her way through each room starting with her own. This is when she realizes just how few possessions she actually has. Maybe it's more than most elves or most mages but that isn't saying much.

Namaya is a surprisingly fastidious woman. Her belongs are kept neat, and from the looks of it, rarely ever touched. Emma spots the trunk that contains the blond elf's dresses; she almost can't bring herself to open it. There is one gown in particular that she studies for what seems like ages; shining jewels of all sorts adorn the fabric. It's a bit gaudy, not at all her taste, but if nothing else the sapphire and nearly flawless diamonds might be worth a few sovereigns.

The last place she feels compelled to visit is Anders' room. It isn't as clean as Namaya's or as bare as Emma's own room, but none of that matters anyway. She can feel the last traces of his energy all around her, here. She can almost see his smile and hear his laugh...she can even taste him on her lips...

An unspeakable feeling of despair consumes her.

Emma sits down on the bed and tries in vain to stop the tears that well up in her eyes. She is stronger than this...But then, Namaya was supposed to be invincible...

"Are you ready to go yet?" Jowan's voice breaks through somehow, but she does not move. He wraps his arms around her and she cries harder. What reason does she have not to cry anyway? Jowan is better at the emotional stuff, he always has been. "It'll be all right..." he says, trying to comfort her, but he'd have to be a fool to actually believe it.

So what if they're both fools?


	10. X: Bound For The Unknown

**Title:** The Great Escape X: Bound For The Unknown

**A/N:** This is the last little bit of what I like to call Part One. The next chapter will be the beginning of Part Two, and so on and so forth.

)O(

This house just isn't safe anymore.

Irene does not look nearly as happy as she did on her last visit. She throws open the door, slips inside, and closes it just as quickly. It's as if she's being chased by some horrific, invisible monster. She is afraid.

Emma studies the map of Thedas spread out on the kitchen table while Jowan gathers together what few belongings they can carry.

"Where's Namaya?" Irene inquires, her tone almost conversational.

"Probably well on her way to Amaranthine by now."

"That was wise of her. I thought surely there would be templars already breaking down the door, demanding answers...But it's also reckless. They'll be expecting it." she sighs. "Ah, the things people do for love..."

Emma looks up, startled by the comment and the revelation it sparks in her mind. Of course Namaya loves Anders. It's plain enough for anyone to see, but she'd been so distracted by her own feelings for him that she never bothered to look. But there is no sense in thinking about that now. You can't change the past, so she focuses on the future instead.

"I'm just trying to decide where Jowan and I will go." Emma explains. "So far I've ruled out Orlais and Seheron, for obvious reasons. I considered Tevinter but elven slavery is still legal there and that repulses me a bit, to be honest."

Irene nods. "Well, there is always the Free Marches." she suggests. "The problem is that they are such a diverse nation, if you can even call them that."

"Wait, why is that a problem?"

"You see, there are towns like Ostwick that don't even have a chantry. Then there are cities such as Kirkwall that are practically ruled by templars. Strong differences like that inevitably lead to conflicts you don't want to be caught in the middle of."

The Anderfels would also be an option if its winters were not a thousand times worse than they are here in Ferelden.

Antiva is warm but it is also small and known throughout the land for its assassins. She can't help but be slightly unnerved by this.

Emma begins to realize that Irene isn't just a gossip, but a gossip with reliable informants pretty much everywhere. No longer is she just the annoying woman who drops in occasionally to check up on them or give Namaya a few gold coins. Instead, she is a source of vast knowledge regarding the world, which is exactly what the mage needs right now.

"I wish there was more I could do, dear." Irene laments. But Emma knows she has a reputation to protect, too. She actually has something to lose.

And so, after she is gone, Emma and Jowan set out towards the docks with no more idea of where they are going than before.

The unknown awaits them.

Meanwhile, a black cat sits in a protective pose on the windowsill. The feline's huge yelllow eyes remain watchful and alert as it keeps this vigil.

)O(

Emma can feel the chill in the air. The first snow is expected to fall any day now.

She finds the windows of _Shartan's Last Arrow_ all boarded up, either as an admittance of failure or a precaution for the inevitable storm. Most other shops and taverns on the docks are also dark and quiet, except for one.

It seems everything is business as usual at Denerim's most popular brothel. With Ferelden on the brink of war both against the darkspawn and itself, everyone figures they might as well get their fill of earthly pleasures while they still can. The blare of music along with clouds of tobacco smoke pour out as sailors and tarts file into _The Pearl_.

Emma then turns her gaze to the sea. Several ships are moored to the dock, tossed about by the waves. Only one of the vessels shows any signs of life at all. It is smaller than a cargo ship but not by much. Men scurry about the deck, readying the sails.

"What do you want?" one of the men adresses her curtly. But before Emma can answer, a woman with thick, dark hair appears at his side.

"Where are your manners, Casavir?" she scowls.

"Yes, boss, I promise to try harder." the man called Casavir says, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Apparently, he takes this as his cue to leave, and when he does the woman's demeanor changes.

"Let me guess," she starts. "More desperate souls seeking a free ride out of Ferelden?"

"Something like that." Emma agrees.

"First, what it is you're running from?" When she notices the surprised expressions on their faces, she smiles warmly. "Everyone is trying to get somewhere else, right? Some just have more motivation than others."

Emma and Jowan exchange nervous looks. They have no reason to trust this person, after all. How much is it safe to reveal?

"I..." the elf hesitates, "I would rather not say."

"Oh, but I insist." At this, the ship captain frowns. "Look, I need to know who is after you so that I can determine whether your presence on my ship would be worth the trouble. Don't be shy, I've seen it all before."

"Here's seventy-five silvers if you don't ask any more questions." Emma offers, holding out the coins. She knows it is a mistake immediately, for as soon as the dark-haired woman takes the money, she can see Emma's scars.

"Don't worry, you're secret is safe with me." she says, almost gently. "Unfortunately, the Chantry is offering quite a substantial reward for your capture. Both of you, in fact. Hence you would need to give me more than they are willing to, and I'm afraid seventy-five silvers just won't cut it."

That is when Emma remembers the dress. She presents it to the human who remarks that it isn't her taste either, but at least the jewels should be will enough to pay for protection from the templars and safe passage to wherever it is the ship is headed.

"My name is Isabela," the pirate queen finally introduces herself. "This magnificent beauty is the _Siren's Call_. She is my pride and joy and the only ship in these waters that has a chance of making it out before it's too late." Isabela pauses. "I'm off to Rivain, by the way."

It is a land untouched by the Chantry's influence; a nation so far north that it almost borders on qunari territory. The downside to this is that many Rivaini people have converted to the Qun, a religion that views mages as objects. However, Rivain is the only land in Thedas that has truly accepted elves and their culture. It's a world away from Ferelden.

Maybe they'll find hope there.

Emma takes a deep breath, and climbs aboard.


	11. XI: Voyage

**Title: **The Great Escape XI: Voyage

**A/P (Author's Apology):** Okay, there's something you should know about me. My writing is almost entirely dependent on my obsessions. For example, if I'm obsessed with, say, Dragon Age, then I will write fanfiction for it. But if another game steals my attention, such as Heavy Rain, I will have no choice but to write for that instead.

I would like to apologize for the delay. Perhaps it doesn't seem that long compared to other writers, but it is for me, who is used to posting a new chapter at least twice a week. And those of you who read The Way of The Blind, I want you to know that I have no intention of abandoning it. I love the idea too much to let it die.

Also, this is a bit of a shorter chapter - I know, I know! No update for weeks and then it's not incredibly long. What the hell, Witchy? - But I promise that I will post chapters more frequently in the future. I'm very excited about the next one. Let's just say it involves a woman who talks to trees...

Thank you all so much for being patient with me and giving such wonderful feedback!

I'll shut up now and get on with the story.

Review if you forgive me...?

)O(

_"Bitter is the knowledge one gains from voyaging! _  
_ The world, monotonous and small, today, _  
_ Yesterday, tomorrow, always, shows us our image._

_ Must one depart? Remain? If you can stay, remain;_  
_ Leave, if you must. One runs, another hides_  
_ To elude the vigilant, fatal enemy,_  
_ Time! There are, alas! those who rove without respite."_

_- Charles Baudelaire (Because I'm a sucker for good French poetry)_

)O(

_~ Part Two ~_

Emma doesn't know what to expect from life at sea. She also doesn't know what to expect from life amidst a bunch of pirates led by a shameless seductress. They are a loud, drunk and lively sort of folk. But right now they are the only friends she and Jowan have now that their world has been turned upside down yet again. Maker, did she ever truly know what to expect from life at all? Besides, of course, a life in service to the Circle.

The journey to Rivain is not an easy one. Storms brew overhead and the ship is at the complete mercy of the waves. Not to mention the food is awful, greasy and altogether unappetizing. Emma misses Namaya's cooking. She also begins to miss dry land. But at least it isn't quite as cold here.

"Hey there, sweetheart." Emma flinches as a strange man approaches her. He is one of Isabela's men, a real shady type, too. And it is clear he has been drinking. But then he is entirely too close to her...Emma still remembers the Whistler. "You looked lonely." he says.

The elf must force herself to stay calm. Surely the drunk would come to his senses if she just reminds him that she is a mage and therefore capable of setting him on fire if he tries anything.

Oh right, because Isabela had said to keep that little detail a secret from the rest of the crew...

"No. Please, I'd much rather be alone, if it's all the same to you."

But the Idiot shows no sign of backing down. He smiles at her so that the elf can plainly see the gaps between his teeth. _I wonder how many times a woman has punched him in the face._

"I think you'd better just play nice, knife-ears." he snaps, and Emma recoils at the insult. She has been called many things in her lifetime, but that is one of the hardest to take.

A small crowd has gathered by this point, and to her horror, they are actually laughing and cheering him on. She wonders if the entire world has gone absolutely mad. But those thoughts are cut short as the Idiot grabs Emma and pulls her forcefully to him, snaking his repulsive tongue through her lips. Wide eyes dart about in a cold panic, looking anywhere but into the Idiot's eyes.

Magic rises on its own accord from somewhere deep within her, as if reserved for this very moment.

"What, by all the gods, is going on here?" a voice then rises above all the others, breaking through the chaos. The crowd quickly disperses and the Idiot releases her. Isabela stands like a lioness, proud and ready to pounce. Even the Idiot knows to be afraid of her. "Well? Come on, I want answers!"

And yet, to the elf's surprise, it is the Idiot who speaks. "We were just...having a little fun, Captain."

"Oh really? Well, it certainly doesn't look like she would agree with you there." Isabela rolls her eyes. "Honestly, it isn't as if you have been away from _The Pearl_ for that long!" Then she pauses, fire flashing in those eyes now. "I want to make it very clear that Ms. Surana is my guest, and you are to treat her with the same amount of respect that you would me. Now get back to work, all of you!"

Emma is stunned. The pirate had not been obligated to do that for her. So what were her motivations?

"Thanks..." the elf says once she has found her voice again.

"Hm? Oh, it was nothing." Isabela scowls. "I'd be a poor captain if I couldn't discipline my sodding crew, right? But, just between you and me, you should turn that one into a toad when you get the chance." _Yeah, I may do just that._

The rest of the voyage is more or less uneventful. Early one morning, while Emma is staring off across the ocean toward the horizon, she notices something out of the ordinary. Like mountains, contradicting the endless flatness of the sea. Wispy pink clouds roll on in the sky above.

And all it once it occurs to her exactly what she is seeing.

The coast of Rivain spreads out before them, a welcoming beacon to weary travelers, even pirates and apostates.

Rivain is a beautiful place. But then, anything would be beautiful after so many days of sailing.

There are no templars, no Chantry or goddamn Circle of Magi. For the first time since her phylactery was destroyed, the blood mage feels utterly free.

And she wonders how long it will last this time before the angry hand of the Maker decides to take her down a peg or two.


	12. XII: Adahl'Asha

**Title: **The Great Escape XII: Adahl'Asha

**A/N:** I feel you should know that Awakening _and_ DA2 events - particularly the fate of Anders - will play a role in the story to come. Obviously altered because this is an AU story, but it is still important to note. Thank you for your patience with my hectic writing schedule and please feel free to review.

)O(

It is an enormous relief when she finally steps onto the sandy shore of Rivain. No longer are they bound to a ship, endlessly traversing the icy depths of the sea...

And it really is beautiful here. When they had left Ferelden, winter was just beginning to seize the land, freezing life in its tracks. Now, it seems early spring has come; dense forests surround them, just beyond the beach. And somewhere beyond that - hopefully - a new home is waiting to be found.

The very breeze itself screams freedom. But she has been wrong before, after all, and Emma should know better than to expect anything more.

"You'll want to head straight for Llomerryn, where I hail from." Isabela advises. "There is a woman there named Mana, a good sort, who is intimately familiar with your...situation. I'm sure she will be more than hospitable if you're honest."

"What about you?" Emma inquires. "What will you do now?"

"I have to stay with my men and oversee the ship is moored properly. If I didn't, those lazy brutes would drift halfway to Antiva without realizing anything was wrong." she smiles, showing off a rather fine set of teeth. "I'll sleep in my quarters again tonight, and perhaps catch up with you in the morning. You're not bad company, but I do have other business as well."

"I understand." Emma nods. "Well, thanks for everything, either way."

They part soon after that. Emma and Jowan walk for a while in the general direction Isabela points them, hoping it will lead to some sign of civilization: sensible civilization though, not Chantry zealots.

Llomerryn turns out to be a quaint village, rather small but spread out, too. The houses are built of light colored wood, dotted about the landscape in no particular order or formation, at least not one that she can see. The inhabitants are just as varied. All of them are dark-skinned, and somewhat mystical in appearance, like the Dalish. Most have tattoos similar to the ones Dalish clans mark themselves with to show their devotion to the elven Creators.

Some Rivainis are very tall, indicating possible qunari ancestry. The qunari remain a strong presence, especially in the more northern parts of the country, and this presence is not always unwelcome to natives. But others are smaller with delicate features, like those of the elves. This makes sense, too, as the Dalish have also been a strong influence on the people of Rivain.

Jowan stares in thinly-veiled amazement. Who knew anything like this could continue to exist in such a world?

In many ways, they are a culture that has managed to absorb everything around them without difficulty, except the teachings of the Chantry. _And thank all the gods for that._

As it happens, Mana is not a hard person to track down. In fact, she is a rather well-known and respected figure in the community. The locals reverently refer to her as Adahl'Asha, which when translated from ancient Evlish literally means 'tree woman'. Emma soon discovers that every villager is more than eager to sing her praises.

"She has a gift, I tell you." one man declares. "Truly, she speaks to trees, and they speak back! I have seen it with my own two eyes. Adahl'Asha can draw spirits from the Beyond at will."

"I owe her an eternal debt." says another woman. "If it were not for her, I would have surely lost my two babes just hours after bringing them into this world."

"She saved my life a few years ago when some filthy missionaries brought their strange diseases to our land." yet another young villager adds. "They tried to stop her, if you can believe it. They called her 'maleficar' and 'witch' and other awful names. But she is a seer and should be honored."

Mana's own house is like any of the others, built near a lovely grove of oak trees. One distinct detail is the garden in front. It shows signs of the beginnings of new life; flowers struggling to bloom, plants and herbs shivering in the breeze. Emma wonders how many of these are for magical purposes, instead of merely aesthetic appeal.

She knocks on the door and the tree woman answers quickly, blinking at these strangers in understandable confusion.

Mana is an elderly woman, neither as tall as a qunari nor as slim as an elf. Her dark hair is long but kept out of her eyes with a ribbon. The eyes themselves are deep, full of kindness and wisdom. The blood mage feels as though she can trust this person.

Then Adahl'Asha beckons them inside.


	13. XIII: Family Ties

**Title:** The Great Escape Part XIII: Family Ties  
**A/N:** So, After recently acquiring DA2 and becoming incredibly obsessed with it, I am once again inspired to continue writing this story! But remember that your reviews do help the process along a great deal.

)O(

It is the kind of house that is so clean it makes yuo not want to touch anything.

Mana sets to work brewing tea while Emma and Jowan sit down on a bench that appears to have been made by someone who was not a professional judging by the craftsmanship. Still, it could be worse. Their hostess returns, probably wondering who these foreigners are and why they impose on her like this.

"It is good to have visitors who aren't bleeding." she says lightly.

"You're a healer, then?" Emma asks. "The people here speak highly of you."

"Yes, I suppose you could say that." Mana agrees, smiling. "They speak highly of me because I use my gifts for good rather than my own gain. I have cured their ailments, mended their wounds, delivered their children...but I am also their spiritual guide."

The teakettle suddenly begins to emit a high-pitched squeal. Mana goes to attend to it, leaving her guests to look at each other in bewilderment. They know nothing of this woman other than the fact that she is a mage who aspires to serve her people in the only way she can, which Emma figures makes her a good person. But who is she really?

At that moment, a powerful wave of homesickness washes over her. Emma now misses Namaya more than ever. She finds herself wishing she had not given the fine dress to Isabela so quickly. Denerim is supposed to be home, not this place. True, they are free of the templars, but what is life without a little danger? At least then she was alive, living in fear, but still _living_.

It's funny that the one place in all of Thedas where she won't be discriminated against for being both an elf and a mage is the one place she does not belong. Well, besides the Circle, of course.

"Are you okay?" Jowan asks gently, worried as always. "You seem a little...not well." _Am I that obvious?_ She must look very disturbed if he would risk asking the question. Usually those who fussed over Emma needlessly ended up taking a fire ball to the face. Very unfortunate indeed.

"I'm fine, I swear." she assures him. "I guess it just occurred to me that we can't go back. We're Rivaini, now, whatever that entails. I miss the way things used to be, you know? Sure, nothing was certain and we had to hide all the time, but at least we were together. It's difficult to accept that I'll never see them again."

"It's not fair." Jowan declares, growing angry. "It's not fair that the templars force us to uproot our lives again and again just to be free. And yet, we don't really have much of a choice, do we?"

"Freedom is all about choice." Emma tells him. "And the only choice we have now is to flee or submit."

"But when has it ever been fair?" Mana comes back carrying the tea, which is different from Namaya's tea, or any tea in Ferelden. For one, the liquid is green, and it smells strongly of herbs and magic. If Adahl'Asha had planned to kill them, this would be the way to do it.

"Thank you." Emma says, hoping these will not be her last words.

"So tell me," Mana starts, sipping her own cup of the strange tea. "Have _you_ been using your gifts for good rather than your own gain?"

For a moment this catches them both off-guard. How does one respond to that? They cannot exactly claim they have done anything to help others, except if killing a bunch of darkspawn with blood magic and healing the Whistler's broken arm counts. So the elf tells the truth.

"We prefer to keep it a secret. It's better that way, otherwise we would be sent back to the Circle, or worse."

Mana nods solemnly. "Are you ashamed?" But the elf isn't entirely sure what she is asking. Are they ashamed because they must hide it, or because they have magic at all? Emma isn't certain anymore. So she does not respond, opting instead to try the tea, which does not taste poisonous.

"Isabela said you might let us stay here for a while." Emma says hesitantly, because she has learned by now that mentioning the pirate's name can either be an excellent help or a grave mistake, and she is unsure which this will be.

"Isabela…?" Adahl'Asha's eyes flash with momentary confusion. "Oh yes, that's what she calls herself these days. She didn't even return home for her own mother's funeral, you know. I tried to write her, sent a letter almost every day. Alas, I never received an answer. By the spirits, how I loved that girl, even when I knew she was being foolish…"

"Is there something I should know?" the elf inquires, for she can sense there is a story here.

"Didn't she tell you?" Mana raises an eyebrow, then shakes her head in dismay. "I suppose that is understandable. Still, it is quite an impressive feat for a girl to hold a grudge that ought to have died with her mother. Ironically, it's a trait she inherited from my daughter. You see, I am Isabela's grandmother."

Emma isn't surprised, but Jowan seems shocked. What other secrets is the captain keeping from them? Why does she continue to hate her dead mother so? And more importantly, why suggest her grandmother's house as a temporary refuge from the rest of this magic-fearing world?

"But Isabela did say nice things about you." the elf points out, feeling somewhat obligated to cheer the old woman up since she had started the topic.

"Of course she did." Adahl'Asha smiles at the attempt. "They all do."


	14. XIV: Listening

**Title:** The Great Escape XIV: Listening

)O(

Emma finds it difficult to fall asleep that night. She has unknowingly become accustomed to the continuous roar of the sea and the boisterous laughter of sailors. Now there is only the sound of wind rustling the trees. Not to mention the chirping of crickets. It's not the same. All she can do is remember…

So she puts all that remembering to good use and tries to recall a spell taught to her by a fellow apprentice once. It was meant to induce sleep; unfortunately said apprentice had ended up in a coma as a result. That doesn't sound like such a bad thing right now.

"Jowan," Emma whispers. "Hey, are you awake?"

"No." He turns over in the darkness, and she can sense that he is looking at her now. "Why are you?"

"I can't sleep." the elf says, attempting to sound adorable.

Jowan sighs. "Do you ever think about going back to the Tower?"

And for a moment, she cannot bring herself to reply. What is he saying? Doesn't he know that would mean their deaths if not worse?

"Never." Emma speaks firmly. "Look, Rivain may not be perfect, but anything is better than being a slave to the Chantry."

"What about Seharon?"

The very thought of it sends a shiver down her spine. "All right, you got me there. Anything besides that, then."

"Why do you think Isabela didn't tell us she still had family here?"

"Who knows? I didn't get the impression that they got along too well. I guess we never really knew that much about her to start with, but I intend to find out."

It doesn't take long after that for the Fade to take them both. Their dreams are filled with the incoherent chatter of spirits, and the enticing whispers of demons.

_With passion'd breath does the darkness creep._  
_It is the whisper in the night, the lie upon your sleep._

)O(

When at last the sun ebbs over the horizon, brightening Liomerryn, birds begin to sing. This is unusual since the trees are still bare, and so normally all feathered creatures should have flown south to Ferelden. Perhaps it's the Blight, she reasons; maybe they can feel the corruption spreading from beneath the earth. They too have been displaced like so many wandering refugees in desperate search of anything whole and constant.

This particular morning also brings a visitor to their door. He stands at six feet and four inches tall, give or take a few. But that is not the first thing to catch Emma's eye; the man's hair is almost white though he cannot be much older than herself. Nevertheless, it rather interesting in contrast with his dark skin. _Maybe he's qunari._

And in many ways, he does match the description, but something just isn't quite fitting about that,,,

"Greetings, Mana," he says, "How does the day find you so far?"

"Ah, Horus, I am well." Then she smiles brightly. "You must meet my new guests. Apparently they know my granddaughter."

"Which one?" Horus asks, giving them a quizzical look.

"The one who fancies herself a pirate," the seer replies. Emma immediately begins to feel awkward, desperate for a way to lighten the mood. So she tells Horus her name and introduces herself properly. Mana requests that he join them for breakfast; he is willing to oblige.

Strangely, Horus seems rather curious about her, not that she isn't just as curious about him.

"You came here because your people believe magic is dangerous and that those who are born with magical ability should be imprisoned?"

"Not exactly," Emma explains. "My people are mages and elves, not templars. Magic can be dangerous, but so can one's fist. But we don't go around cutting off everyone's hands, because they are useful, and so is magic. The sad part is, for most elves, the Circle is preferable to a life of poverty."

"What do you mean?"

"Mages are looked down upon equally, whether they are human or elven, at least where I come from anyway. It's going to take time for me to get used to the idea of magic being a gift rather than an extreme social liability."

Maybe here she can build something of a life.

As it turns out, Horus is indeed half qunari, but only on his father's side. And like his father before him, he does not believe in the Qun, which views mages as broken _things_ rather than people. His father was killed years ago, speared in the heart by a Tal'Vashoth hunter. Horus' mother later died from a combination of illness and grief; she had been good friends with Mana.

It is clear enough that he has not had an easy life; even Emma's own woes pale in comparison. But he insists the Natural Order will ensure balance is kept in the world, and all suffering will one day turn to great joy if one is simply willing to wait, watch and listen.

And so she listens. Maybe if Emma looks hard enough, she will find the answer she seeks in those soft hazel eyes of his that seem to draw her in...

But like strangers might talk casually about the weather, they inevitably begin to talk about the Blight. It's on everyone's minds these days, silently waiting to be acknowledged. There are constant reminders of its presence, and you don't even have to look very hard to find them.

Ferelden refugees fled when their villagers were taken by darkspawn. Those who could afford it went by ship to the Free Marches, but many more were turned away the second they arrived. That's what happens when you displace a large population of people who have nothing but each other to a nation that can scarcely pull itself together enough to go on.

They had no choice but to make the long journey to Rivain or Antiva or whatever place would take them. And some are tainted; their blood stains the soil black as coal. Horus should know since he works on a farm.

"I thought most everyone burned their dead." Emma remarks. She is more than slightly unnerved by his words.

"It's originally a Dalish tradition to bury the dead, I believe, but it is widely accepted thoughout Thedas, especially here in Rivain. What comes from the earth must return to the earth. Sadly, the darkspawn also come from the earth."

Emma nods gravely. The Dalish do indeed bury their dead; she should know. For a moment, she wonders if Lyna's blood had been tainted as well. And if so, had it irreversibly poisoned the earth, altering it that nothing new may grow again? Perhaps the spirits in that forest, drifting aimlessly through the trees, had felt the change. And maybe one of them had whispered to Mana of what was and is still to come.

All she must do is listen.


	15. XV: Can't Go Home Again

**Title:** The Great Escape XV : Can't Go Home Again

**A/N: **I know some of you may be a little confused as to where the story is going at this point, but I assure you, it is definitely moving in a direction. Hopefully that will become clear in the next chapter. Reviews are much loved!

)O(

Days go by, and everyone slips into their daily routines. Soon days turn into weeks, then months and impossibly slow eternities. News trickles in just as slowly from Ferelden. Each refugee fleeing the darkspawn eventually shows up on Mana's doorstep, seeking medical attention or aid of some kind. They all bring with them another wild story.

The Grey Wardens are raising an army of dwarves and elves and mages, supposedly to fight in the civil war against Loghain the Usurper. Ferelden will have to stand together if there is to be any hope of defeating the darkspawn. Some people actually believe Loghain's lies. Hence they remain bitter toward the Wardens, content in the delusion that their homes would not have been destroyed were it not for the betrayal. They don't understand that the Blight could not have ended at Ostagar.

Others claim it is already over. Queen Anora has been locked away somewhere in a tower, they say, and the nation has a new king now. He is thought to be the bastard son of glorious King Maric - Maker rest his soul - which would mean he is also Cailan's half-brother. And he's a Grey Warden, too!

Loghain is dead, beheaded right in the middle of an assembly of nobles by the illegitimate prince himself. And the king then appointed his friend and fellow Warden, Aedan Cousland, as the leader of his armies.

They are told this by a woman named Helena who traveled weeks by ship with her young daughter, Annabelle, to reach Rivain. The poor girl doesn't even understand what is happening. Both mother and child just want to go home, but the darkspawn horde is rumored to be making its way toward Denerim, the archdemon at its head. Emma hopes this isn't true.

"We left everything behind," Helena laments. "Annabelle's father died at Ostagar...along with the king...and so many other good men and women. After that I knew we had to run lest the Blight or the war come for us first."

"I can't imagine what that must have been like." Emma replies, genuinely touched by the small family's hardships.

"Can't you?" the woman glances at her. "You were there. You felt it, didn't you? When the balance shifted, I mean. We threw everything we had at those wretched creatures, one last stand, and it just wasn't enough. There was this terrible finality of it all. Something ended that day, irreversibly changed, but no one knew exactly what." Helena looks away quickly. "And all we could do was run. You understand; you were there."

"I was." she confirms. "But I had my own reasons for running. I've lost someone, just like everybody else."

)O(

She finds Mana in the garden just before sunset. If the seer heard her approach, she did not turn or acknowledge the elf's presence.

Emma feels the energy in the air. It is unfamiliar yet unmistakable. Then Mana speaks.

"The wise oak has revealed much to me." she says. "Many paths seldom taken, many destinies intertwined, all of it leading to something...unforeseeable."

"What—" she starts, but is quickly cut off.

"Those creatures - the dark ones, soulless minions of a tainted dragon - they should not exist. It defies the Natural Order. You see, don't you? It must be stopped."

There is truth in her words, however ambiguous they may be. But if anyone can end the Blight, Aedan Cousland can and will do so. He is the one with the influence to rally Ferelden's people, even more than the king. Besides, he'd stood up for the mages; there are rumors that he is in love with the dark-haired Witch Woman he travels with.

Ah, the stories people tell to pass the time...

"What else do you see, Mana?" the blood mage asks. "What more do the trees tell you?"

)O(

Horus thinks she has been avoiding him on purpose, probably because she has. They've become friends of a sort. But the blood mage can tell he wants more. Not that she is entirely opposed; he is a very sweet man and he makes her feel...

He makes her feel. That should be enough.

And as foolish as it might sound, she still thinks about Anders sometimes. Well, more often than Emma would care to admit. She wonders where he is now, and if he's happy there. What have the templars done to him? Did he manage to escape? Namaya seemed very confident but it is never wise to underestimate the templars. A lot of good, if stupid, mages have died that way.

In truth, the elf honestly doesn't know why she cannot just let things work themselves out. She has no faith in the Natural Order. Emma finds herself unable to simply live for the present and nothing else, content with what she has while it lasts. It only leads to misery anyway, even if the memories remain, especially if the memories are all that remain.

"You look so deep in thought." Horus observes, coming to stand beside her as she watches the sun setting over the sea. "May I ask what has you so preoccupied?"

"It's nothing, really." Emma replies. "I'm just trying to figure out how everything connects, and what my next move should be. I suppose I'm just a little lost."

"I do not think you are the only person to feel that way, particularly now." he says. "Does Rivain not feel like home?"

She considers the idea. "Now that you mention it, I don't think anywhere has ever felt like home, but I guess I don't really have anything to compare it to." Emma sighs. "Mana has been wonderful, she truly has. And part of me doesn't want things to change, but I know they must."

"Change is the only constant in our world." Horus says sagely. Emma nods. They stay there for a while. just witnessing another sunset. But for all she knows, it could very well be the last one she sees, here.

Then they talk about mundane subjects. Emma asks about his sister, Tansy, who is with child; the father is dead and so she relies on Horus to look after her for now, though she hates to be a burden to him. The elf knows all this because Mana is Tansy's midwife. Her brother says that she is well, but very tired.

Eventually, he turns and begins walking in the direction of his farm.

"Wait," Emma calls after him. "I need to...prove something to myself."

And she kisses him.

She has no way of knowing if this is the best decision she has ever made, or the worst mistake. Honestly, she no longer cares. For this one moment, right now, she is happy.

Despite the fact that reality is awaits her attention, all sealed away in an envelope.


	16. XVI: And The Past Comes Rushing In

**Title:** The Great Escape XVI: And The Past Comes Rushing In

)O(

_E,_

_I don't know if this letter will reach you. N received word of where you intended to go once she arrived in Amaranthine. It seems our friends have eyes everywhere. Anyway, I'm writing to tell you that I'm safe. Though writing this letter at all may jeopardize that. The templars aren't technically allowed to hunt me now, but you can never be too careful. Most of all I don't want to put you in danger. A lot of things have changed since we last saw each other._

_I'm in Amaranthine right now, and you're not going to believe this, but I'm a Grey Warden. You must have heard how the Blight ended, even where you are. I wasn't there when our forces clashed with the darkspawn, but the Commander and that dwarf have loads of stories. I bet they'll be scraping bits of the archdemon off the roof of Fort Drakon for months. _

_The Commander doesn't seem to think it's over though. He says there's something else out there. That's why the darkspawn haven't gone back into the Deep Roads yet. There's one darkspawn who talks. The Commander says it's all very secret Warden stuff I'm not supposed to share with anyone else. I wish I could tell you more, I really do._

_N is fine by the way. I think she misses Denerim. I hope you are doing well. Please write back soon, if you can._

_Love,_

_- A_

Emma read the letter over several times, perusing the words for hidden meaning. There is no doubt in her mind that the message is from Anders. Who else could it be? And 'N' must refer to Namaya. It makes sense that she would miss the city.

So he is a Warden now. Emma had heard that Ferelden's new king granted the lands of Amaranthine to the Order so they could rebuild. And if he had indeed been conscripted, the Chantry would be forced to recognize that Anders is no longer an apostate as long as his magic is used responsibly in service to the Grey Wardens. Such a loop-hole has saved countless mages lives, similar to the law forbidding the templars from performing the Rite of Tranquility on a person who has already passed their Harrowing.

Some say it's a reason why the Wardens were exiled from Ferelden before King Maric took back the throne.

But what is this ominous 'something else' Anders mentions? Why haven't those foul creatures returned to their respective holes deep underground so everyone but the dwarves and the Wardens could just forget they exist for another four centuries? But if there are indeed talking darkspawn now...

She would make a terrible Warden. After all, the first and hopefully last time Emma faced darkspawn in battle, she nearly didn't make it out alive. She is happy for him though. And the blood mage tries to suppress the myriad of other, far more complicated feelings that seize at her heartstrings upon reading his letter, refusing to be ignored.

_What am I going to do?_

She picks up her quill, and begins to compose a reply.


	17. XVII: Weathering The Storm

**Title:** The Great Escape XVII: Weathering The Storm  
**A/N:** I promise the trend of very short chapters will come to end soon. We're also approaching the end of Part Two, so just hang in there and please do review, folks!

)O(

"_Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,_

_I shall embrace the Light. _

_I shall weather the storm._

_I shall endure._

_What You have created, no one can tear asunder."_

_- Trials 1:10, the Chant of Light_

)O(

She tells him about Rivain, and Mana's gracious but bizarre hospitality. _I'm learning to heal_, the elf writes. _Not as well as you, of course, but just enough to get by._ She even tells him how content Jowan has become now that they don't have to be afraid, as well as her own inability to feel at home. And she knows this all just a way of avoiding the bigger issue.

Emma does not tell him about Horus, her exotic distraction, because she suddenly realizes just how much she misses Anders. He who risks everything to write to her, ending his letter with the word 'love' which fills her with fear and makes her heart beat faster.

The blood mage knows she must end things with one of them before someone gets hurt in a way that not even healing magic can fix.

Just then, a child comes running into the room at full speed, blond pigtails flying behind her. The girl stares up at Emma with innocent blue eyes.

"Mommy says we can maybe go home soon!" Annabelle announces excitedly. "I really like it here. It's a lot of fun. But I miss our dog and our house and my friends. Mommy says Daddy's with the Maker now. When do you think he will come back?"

"I..." Emma is at a loss for words.

"Annabelle, sweetie," Helena stands in the doorway, her hands clasps awkwardly in front of her and a strange pleading look in her eyes. "Could you please go help Mana with lunch?"

The little girl turns and runs off in the other direction, nearly knocking over her mother in the process. Once she is gone, Helena shuts her eyes and leans against the splintering wood of the door frame. The Ferelden widow looks hopeless, sleepless, worn down by grief and heartache and fear.

The blood mage had never felt much pride in being from Ferelden. She was and is a mage before anything else. And yet, the elf sympathizes with her on a fundamental level. There is this connection between them that compels Helena to confide in her.

"I didn't know what else to tell her." she admits, voice so very thin and frail. "I knew the risks when I married a soldier. I thought I understood. All you can do is try not to dwell on it, you know? You just have to pray it doesn't come to that. Annabelle was the light of his life...But then the king's call to arms changed everything, and every man who was able raced to Ostagar to serve their country. He warned me of what could happen, but I never really believed it. No one expected..."

Her voice trails off, and there is this unspeakable sadness in the woman's eyes now. This is supposed to be a happy time. The archdemon is dead and with that the darkspawn have been halted in their tracks. All anyone can do is salvage whatever might be salvageable, rebuild from the ashes, burn and mourn the dead.

Emma puts aside her natural discomfort around the grieving and takes Helena's hand gently.

"So what will you do?" the elf queries.

"Merciful Andraste...I don't know." the widow replies. "Even if I can manage to scrounge up enough coin to take a ship back to Ferelden, I have no idea what I'd do for work there with not a silver to my name and a daughter to look after. I just don't know if I'm ready to be all alone yet."

"At least you're not a mage."

"What?" Helena blinks, baffled, and she knows that must have been the wrong thing to say.

"I'm sorry. See, this is precisely why I shouldn't attempt to console people." Emma fumbles over her words helplessly. "It's just that, if you were a mage, things would be considerably more difficult for you."

"If I were a mage," the destitute woman muses, "I could go live at the Circle. I'd be safe and warm and well-fed. There are far worse fates."

"Perhaps," she allows, though there is a twinge of bitterness to her tone. "It all depends on your perspective. How much you're willing to give up for the sake of security."

"I would gladly give up more than my freedom if it meant Annabelle would be looked after."

There's something undeniably admirable about that. However, there are very few people on this earth who Emma would be willing to sacrifice herself for. It's the kind of thing you only get to do once, and she doesn't intend to waste it.


	18. XVIII: The Miracle Of Life

**Title: **The Great Escape XVIII: The Miracle Of Life

)O(

A remarkably loud and insistent _bang_ echoes through the silent house. It startles Emma from her light sleep, and after taking a brief moment to collect her wits, she consludes that someone is knocking at the door. Her first thought is that it has to be the templars. They have found her somehow, tracked her down even out here, hidden away in a small village in the _middle _of the middle of nowhere. And they will continue to chase her to the very ends of Thedas.

But that doesn't make any sense. Still, the situation must be urgent for whoever it is to come here in the dead of the night. It could be something as mundane as a refugee iin dire need of first aid, but the elf's intuition tells her it is not.

She pulls back the covers and makes her away across the room to where Jowan is still snoring, oblivious to his friend's growing terror.

"Jowan, wake up." she commands. "There's someone at the door."

"Then go answer it?" he groans, wondering why he needs to be awake for this.

"Don't make me zap you again."

He rises to his feet in record time, following closely as she moves through the darkened house, which is illuminating only by a magical flame held in Jowan's hand, controlled by his will and concentration. Emma's heart pounds in her breast.

Horus and his sister stand on the other side of the door. Tansy says something in a language Emma is unfamiliar with.

"The baby is coming!" her brother helpfully translates.

The elf ushers the two inside and gets them settled on the couch for now. Thankfully, Mana emerges a few minutes later, ready to assume her role as midwife. Horus stays by his sister's side, reassuring her, softly speaking gentle words Emma also doesn't understand.

For his part, Jowan panics.

The labor continues late into the night. In fact, it is only when the sunlight slowly begins to fill the tiny hovel that she realizes just how long they have been keeping this vigil, waiting for a miracle. Exhaustion also begins to take its toll. Mana does what she can, but Tansy is suffering awful pains which grow increasingly frequent as time marches onward.

Finally, the midwife announces that is time for Tansy to push. And she does. She screams in unimaginable agony, no doubt cursing the dead man who left her in this state, until a much tinier cry takes over. Tansy has given birth to a baby girl. Helena, still clad in her nightdress, looks on with tears in her eyes. Even the elf cannot help but weep. She never would have experienced anything like this in the Tower.

But the relief is short lived. Something is dreadfully wrong. The new mother's skin is a ghostly shade of white, much paler than it ought to be. Her eyes stare blankly ahead in obvious confusion. She does not move to take her baby. In fact, she does not move at all.

Horus notices this and tries to get her attention, but she simply mumbles something half-coherent and everything around them falls into utter chaos. That is when Emma first sees the blood. _Is it normal for there to be so much of it?_

Mana springs into action, using both magic and other methods to stop the bleeding. Then Adahl'Asha asks for Emma's assistance, despite the fact that she is not nearly as advanced in the art of healing. Every bit of help is critical now. And so she tries, weaving spells until her veins are free of lyrium and Helena must run to find more potions. When she isn't doing that, however, Helena simply paces about restlessly and prays. Mana prays, too, under her breath.

_Mythal, goddess of Motherhood, protect her..._

Horus also appears to be in a state of shock. He can do nothing but watch as his sister's slender body weakens more and more each second. Emma wants to comfort him, but she would never be able to find the right words anyway. Besides, she must focus on the task at hand.

Somehow, Jowan ends up with the baby. Mana had ostensibly handed the newborn over to the nearest person in the sudden flurry of movement. The baby is wrapped in a blanket, and he holds her awkwardly, uncertain of what to do. The infant picks up on his nervousness as well as the general distressed energy in the room, and starts to cry.

At last, the bleeding stops. Mana predicts that with a little rest, Tansy should be fine. This is very reassuring because Mana's predictions are never wrong. Now that disaster has successfully been avoided, they are free to focus their attention on the newborn baby girl before them. Tansy will name her once she recovers her strength. _Why can't anything ever go exactly according to plan?_

But that is life. It's confusing and chaotic and sometimes wonderful.

"You should rest now." Adahl'Asha advises. "Believe it or not, too much healing can make you ill if you're not careful."

And so she does. Emma forces her tired limbs to carry her to bed. She is already wandering aimlessly through the Fade by the time her head hits the pillow.

She has earned it.


	19. XIX: Leaving

**Title:** The Great Escape XiX: Leaving  
**A/N:** The second to last chapter of Part Two. Sorry for the delay, which I blame equally on site issues and writer's block. Review? Please? With a cherry on top?

)O(

The first thing she sees upon opening her eyes in Annabelle watching her closely.

"Hi there, little one," Emma smiles, still a little groggy. That half-in-the-Fade feeling clings to her. But she tries to clear her head because she has taken quite a shine to the little girl recently.

The events of last night still feel like a dream...

"Why are you so sleepy?" Annabelle wonders.

'I was up very late helping Tansy." Emma replies.

"Oh. Well, Mommy's helping her now. Did you know she named her baby Anna? That's almost like my name!"

She cannot help but smile as well.

Realizing that she will not get any more sleep today, the elf decides to get up and see how the others are faring, for they had stayed up even later than she. Much of Tansy's color has returned to her flesh by now, but she remains propped up on the couch with a few pillows supporting her back. She is breastfeeding her baby.

Now that the blood mage has gotten a proper look at the infant, it is remarkable how much Anna resembles her mother. Though, to be fair, Emma never did get the chance to meet the father so it's impossible to say for sure. Still, the baby is undeniably adorable.

"You know, when Annabelle was born, I was so worried I'd be a horrible mother." Helena is saying to Tansy. The latter smiles, though she does not understand a word of it, of course. "My own mother died when I was very young, you see, so I wasn't sure I knew what to do with a child. But my husband said..." She catches sight of Emma. "Oh! Good _afternoon_, sleepy-head."

"Hello to you, too, Helena." the elf says, finding that she is in rather high spirits.

However, this is all before she reads the letter, and before Isabela struts in and forces them all to make a choice.

)O(

E,

_So much has changed. I don't think I can explain it all in a letter. It's not safe anymore, not where I am. I've left the Wardens. I'm in Kirkwall now, do you know of it? It's a city in the Free Marches. There are lots of Ferelden refugees here who desperately need healing. Unfortunately, there are also lots of templars. If this letter somehow gets traced back to me, they'll lock me up in the Gallows for certain._

_I wish you were here with me. I think about you all the time. I'm sorry you're not happy where you are. If you can, come to Kirkwall. Ask for the healer. Anyone in Darktown can show you the way. I understand if you don't think it's worth the risk. I'd much rather you be safe and out of reach than in danger because of me._

_Love,_

_- A_

Emma reads the letter again to make sure this was actually real. Why would he leave the Wardens? Has something happened in Amaranthine? Is Namaya with him? She sighs. The answers to these questions certainly won't be found in his letter.

She cannot simply...leave, can she? Rivain may not feel like home but she does have friends here. Besides, the only way she will reach the Free Marches is...

"Isabela!" Mana exclaims from the other room. Apparently the pirate has made her grand entrance.

"I'm not here for you, old woman."

"How dare you— " Horus is quick to defend the seer, but she silences him.

"Isabela," Adahl'Asha speaks calmly. "Can you really not forgive your mother, even in death?"

"That bitch sold me for a goat and a handful of gold coins!" the pirate raises her voice. "And you did nothing to stop her!"

"She wanted a better life for you."

"Married to a stranger against my will is a better life?" Isabela asks, appalled. "I do have a better life, and I owe none of it to anyone but myself, least of all my mother."

"She loved you more than you can possibly understand. It broke her heart to watch you go with him, but she believed it was the right thing to do. It killed her to learn that you were unhappy."

"Whatever," the pirate replies dismissively. "I didn't come here for this."

Emma just stands there, unsure of what to make of the situation. She is done listening. Finally, she steps out into the sitting room, and everyone's eyes instantly meet hers.

"Ah, there you are." Isabela smiles at her. "We need to go. Now."

"What?" For some reason, the elf can't quite grasp the words. "Why?"

"Let's just say I...angered the wrong people. I recently acquired something that might help, but it's gone. I need to find it or I'll be killed. The details aren't important at the moment." _Oh, I disagree. _"So, are you coming or not?"

Emma scans her friends' faces. Helena is wide-eyed and frightened. Mana shakes her head in silent but clear disapproval. She can't quite read Horus' expression; maybe it's better that way.

The blood mage needs to be somewhere she feels alive.

"Yes, I'll go."

"Good." Isabela smiles again. "We don't have time to waste. Meet me at the shore as soon as you can. Be ready for a difficult journey."

Emma returns to the room she shares with Jowan and collects her meager things. Meanwhile, he is being too quiet. It is strange, picking up their lives and moving again. Where will the wind take them? She doesn't like not knowing, but such is the life of an apostate.

"I'm not leaving." Jowan says. "I'm sorry."

"What? You can't just—"

"Don't talk, please. Just listen." He looks like he might fall apart any minute now. "I have to stay. I'll build a life here, use my magic for good. I'm so tired of running, Emma...I just can't do it anymore. I was never meant for that, not like you. It's in your blood."

"Are you sure about this?" Somehow she finds her voice. "Once that ship is gone—"

"I know." he cuts her off, and she knows they are thinking the same thing. "We may never see each other again. I know that, and it makes me want to come with you. But I need to be somewhere where I don't have to hide who I am."

He hugs her. They cry. Jowan is the only person she will ever allow to see her cry. Emma doesn't want him to let go. He makes all this bearable, and now he is leaving her, or she is leaving him.

"I'm sorry." he repeats.

Compared to that, saying goodbye to the others is the easiest thing she has ever done.

Helena plans to take Annabelle to Highever, where her brother and his wife apparently have a house. It is time for them to go home. If only Emma knew where her home is. This farewell is tearful, too, but the elf isn't certain who she's crying for now.

Whatever comes next, she will face it alone. And as she embarks on the long walk to the shore, she contemplates tossing her belongings into the oceans. If Emma is going to start over completely, she might as well be thorough about it.


	20. XX: The True Storm

**Title:** The Great Escape XX: The True Storm

)O(

_The Siren's Call _straddles the increasingly choppy waves. Around them, the Waking Sea turns with a silvery-blue fury, enveloping itself as their ship trudges forward. Behind them, the shore of Rivain shrinks into the mist.

But she can't bear to watch any of this, least of all the rapidly disappearing shoreline. It fades from her memory even quicker. She forces herself to recall every detail, keeps the image in her mind, clings to it. Emma has never been this far away from Jowan since her arrival at the damn Tower, and the thought that she may never see him again is enough to tear apart. Yet each passing second brings her closer to Anders. Hopefully, that will be worth it.

Emma spends her days in the hold until one morning when she finds Isabela alone on deck. The pirate is just standing there, her eyes fixed on some invisible point near the horizon. The wind whips through her hair, guiding their sails ever forward.

"There's a storm coming." she says, almost casually. "Hope it's a small one, otherwise you'll have to stay in the hold. Can't have you falling overboard, right? Ah, but being on the open ocean in the middle of a storm...there's no feeling in the world quite like it."

"_I_ certainly hope it's a small one." the elf mutters, but not because she wants to see it up close. Besides, the tide is smooth as silk today, easing the ship along at a rhythmic pace. The only indication of a possible storm are the dark clouds gathering in the distance, foreboding pouches of rain.

Still, she regrets never learning to swim.

"Now you're thinking like a sailor!" Isabela laughs. "And if you're lucky, you won't have to take my word for it."

"Right," Emma replies, intently watching the clouds, willing them away. "Lucky, that's what I am."

But it doesn't go away. In fact, no one aboard _The Siren's Call_ could have imagined the devastation that was soon to take place. Everything becomes a blur. Emma doesn't know exactly when it all started; it seemed like one moment the massive qunari warship wasn't there, and then it was. The great black vessel is pursuing them closely. It appears out of nowhere, ready perhaps for battle but certainly not peace, like a shadow riding the current.

She does not question why they are being followed. All the blood mage can think is that she is trapped with nowhere to run, and the qunari are going to capture her. They'll cut out her tongue and chop off her hands. Then they will bind her, and even if she could scream, no one would hear or come to her rescue.

Emma wants very much to scream; every second brings them closer to what feels like the Void itself. Any moment now, the sky will open and swallow them all up. Jowan and Anders and Namaya might gather together and wonder what became of her. They might even cry. But in the end, they will simply shrug and suppose she was lost at sea, presumed dead, a mystery for the ages. It's all they can do. They will ask themselves why she couldn't just stay in Rivain where it was safe, but there are no answers to be found. The not knowing will bother them for a while, until she too fades from memory.

Emma will watch everything from the abyss, because that's where maleficar go, along with unrepentant sinners and rebellious elves. That's where you go when the Maker punishes you.

This is no small storm. The sky is quickly growing darker, threatening to fall right on their heads. The waves are no longer calm. Rain pours down relentlessly, making the deck slippery and adding yet another element of danger to the already risky tasks the sailors must complete in order to survive. However, if they feared death, they would not be here at all.

Isabela insists on steering this ship right through the heart of the storm. If it kills them, it kills the qunari, too.

Emma is ordered to return to the relative safety of the hold. It's an order she is secretly grateful for and more than willing to obey. She does not want Isabela to know how frightened she truly is. _Now you're thinking like a sailor!_

A deafening _crash_ changes everything.

It's indescribable, this feeling of sinking that washes over her. Panic and an utterly irrational calm twist themselves into a tight knot in her chest. Her mind goes blank, thoughtless, boiled down to the most basic instinct of all: survival.

She must live. Beyond that, nothing else matters right now. Emma is breathing just as surely as blood and magic are forever entangled in her veins. And she knows she cannot stay here, but the risk of going out there may be too great.

Still, she cannot stay here.

It is not safe.


	21. XXI: The City Of Chains

**Title: **The Great Escape XXI: The City Of Chains  
**A/N:** I apologize for the delay, folks. Please do review!

)O(

_~ Part Three ~_

Land...

At last they have reached land. It is the most beautiful sight in the world to her right now, snow-covered and remarkably solid. They are on land. They've made it. The ship, however, is not so lucky.

Most of the vessel has ran aground, but part of it remains half-submerged under water. The impact has drowned several sailors, impaling others. Emma scrambles onto the rocks and sinks down to the frozen earth. It is cold, but no more of a shock to her system than the storm.

That's when she notices Isabela. The pirates stands there, dream-like and grieving; she regards her ship as one might a dead child or perhaps a lost lover.

"Help..." A weak cry reaches them. And that's when Emma realizes her ears are still ringing. It's so very loud here. The waves crash violently against the shore.

"Casavir!" Isabela rushes back into the wreckage before Emma can stop her.

He is pinned beneath a fallen wood beam, what is left of the mast. She cannot even begin to fathom such awful pain. Neither of them are strong enough to pry the beam off, and even if they were, it might just kill him anyway.

"It's...been an honor, Boss."

"Don't say such things, Casavir." the pirate is having trouble keeping her voice from trembling. "You're lying, and if not, you're just scaring me."

"Bitch..." the dying man rasps.

"That's more like it." Isabela forces a smile.

The air leaves his lungs in a strangled sort of gasp, and Casavir ceases to breathe. A captain is nothing without her first mate. She tears her gaze away from his corpse to face Emma.

"Burn it." she orders. "Burn it all."

It finally occurs to her that they are the only survivors.

)O(

Isabela is unnervingly quiet as they stumble their way along the winding paths of the Wounded Coast. Bruises are beginning to form on the darker woman's arms, and she must be freezing in this weather with so little clothes on. The sooner they arrive in the city, the better.

Kirkwall is famously known as the City of Chains. Once of vital port for the Tevinter Imperium in the glory days of the old empire before Andraste's revolt, it was the capitol of the slave trade. The Gallows were its heart. Slaves were brought from across Thedas to work in the quarries. Their masters ran a tight ship, too. In fact, most of the mage-lords couldn't be bothered to even punish their own slaves, leaving everything in the capable hands of their apprentices. Some slaves went their whole lives without ever seeing their real captor. They grew to hate the one who held the whip instead of the one who gave the order.

But history took its course and, in time, the Gallows that had once 'welcomed' boatloads of slaves to an early death fell into disuse. Statues of suffering men and women still remained as silent symbols of the city's dark past. It did not end there, however, because soon mages, whose kind had at one point ruled over these lands, would become subjected to face the very prison they built.

Templars have become the new magisters. A chill runs down her spine as she realizes that the only way to enter Kirkwall proper is through the Gallows. Mages designed it so.

"Just act normal." Isabela advises, and Emma can't stifle the bitter laugh that escapes her. It's like a play. She is an actor. She is to act as through she is normal, not a mage, certainly not a blood mage. I_'m sorry, Ser Templar, but there must be some mistake._

"Names?" the templar asks wearily.

"Mae," Emma replies immediately. She can't afford to exist now. "Mae Emmerick."

"Isabela, charmed." the pirate says in a sultry voice, swaying her hips slightly. But her heart just isn't in it, even if her ample bosom definitely is.

"Where have you come from?" he asks next; they tell him Rivain. He raises an eyebrow at that. "Your friend here doesn't look Rivaini to me. Refugee?"

"I hail from Ferelden, yes." Emma answers. "I fled to Rivain during the Blight, and now I want to start anew in Kirkwall."

"We're actually mermaids with legs." Isabela adds. "If you let us into the city, we'll grant you three wishes."

"Uh-huh..." The templar grows indifferent again. "The Chantry requires by law that I ask you to surrender any mages in your company to the authorities. I will only ask once. If one or both of you are suspected of being apostates, we will have the truth, and the Order won't be so merciful then."

"There are no mages here." Emma says too quickly.

"If I were you, miss, I'd consider your response more carefully." He is looking straight at her, like he knows exactly what she is. She swallows hard, and repeats herself.

"There are no mages here, ser." But then the templar draws his sword and steadies its razor sharp point against her heart, which speeds up considerably as magic blooms within her. Emma is more afraid of what will happen if she does defend herself than the alternative. He is baiting her. This is what he wants, for her to slip up and use magic. It's a sick test, but effective. How did he know?

"You're not a very good actress, _Surana_." the templar hisses in Emma's ear, his blade now positioned uncomfortably on the soft flesh of her neck. "Did you think I would not notice? I was there in the Tower when Uldred's followers took control. They _tortured_ me. Demons clawed at my mind, invading my thoughts and making me question what was real. I still hear the screams. Now I don't know how you and that blood mage managed to escape last time, but I won't let it happen again."

"Ser Cullen!" By this point a sizable crowd has formed around them, all mages and templars since average citizens have little reason to visit the Gallows, least of all for its aesthetic appeal. But the mass of curious onlookers hastily moves aside to let a stern-looking woman pass. "What is going on here, Knight-Captain?"

"Knight-Commander Meredith," he straightens, removing his sword from Emma's throat. "This woman is an apostate!"

'I see." The woman called Meredith steps forward and narrows her eyes. "Well, that cannot be tolerated. Take her to the Gallows!"

Isabela starts shouting something about a heroic rescue, but Emma;s ears are ringing again. She feels dizzy and confused. It's impossible to focus. Cullen grabs one of her arms roughly just as another templar takes the other one. They are dragging her toward a great blackness that seems to go on forever. This is nothing like the Tower.

This is prison.

This is the Void itself.


	22. XXII: The Gallows  Part 1

**Title: **The Great Escape XXII: The Gallows (Part 1)

**A/N: **Reviews would be welcome.

)O(

She wakes up on the floor and frantically checks her arms for needle-marks. There are none. Good, they haven't taken her blood yet. She still has a small chance of escape before she is back at square one. But this is not the Tower. This is a prison in every sense of the word.

The door opens and someone walks in. Emma thinks that this is the end, but he is not a templar, just an elven man wearing elaborate robes.

"What have they done to you?" he asks, rushing to her side and unchaining her. This is when Emma realizes that she cannot speak. The words stubbornly refuse to form. It would seem the paralysis hasn't worn off yet. "I am First-Enchanter Orsino, and I gather you know where you are?"

Emma nods in response. He strikes her as a nice enough person who genuinely cares about the well being of his fellow mages, and he seems saddened by the fact that she has been captured after all this time. Such a waste of so much talent.

Orsino heals her a little, then escorts her down a narrow corridor made of stone and lit by ominous blue-flamed torches. Though Emma has never been in a jail cell before, she would bet that this fit the description. There are bars on the windows. No mage is allowed a room of their own.

Her roommate turns out to be a slender blond woman with hard eyes.

"What's your name?"

At least by now she has regained her voice enough to reply.

"Mae," Emma answers automatically, finding both the name and the lie suit her quite well.

"Very nice." the girl smiles approvingly, then lowers her voice. "And what's your real name?"

This takes her off guard. "Excuse me?"

"Oh come on, you thought you were the only one?" Ann laughs. "For example, the templars here know me as Ann, but my true name is Lora."

"I'm Emma." she says quietly. "How did they find you?"

"It's a bit of a long story." Lora replies, staring blankly into space. "My mother abandoned me at birth on the steps of the chantry. I was taken in and raised as a ward, expected to become a sister when I came of age. Grand Cleric Elthina was the only one who knew of my healing abilities. She kept it a secret because I could use my powers to help people, and I wouldn't be able to do that if I was brought here."

"Wasn't that a huge risk for her to take?" Emma raises an eyebrow.

"Of course it was. In fact, that's an understatement." she agrees. "The Divine herself would have Elthina stripped of her title and probably executed for protecting a mage in the Maker's house. But I was discovered before that happened."

She already knows this story isn't going to have a happy ending. "Go on."

"It was a cold, rainy day if I remember correctly." Lora began. "I was scheduled to take my vows in only a few days time, so naturally I was practicing my meditations. Then a man stumbled through the door and collapsed. I could tell he was injured and I wanted to help him. Elthina told me to be quick. I'd never seen that man in the chantry before. He didn't appear to be from the Marches even; he was an elf with dark skin and the strangest white tattoos you can imagine. I think they hurt him, too, because he flinched every time I touched him. Anyway, the man woke up while I was still working and started shouting in some strange foreign language..." Here she pauses, wiping tears from her eyes. "That's when the templars found me."

"I'm sorry." Emma says. What else can she possibly say? They are both stuck here, no matter what they do.

"I'm not sure I wanted to be a sister anyway." Lora shrugs. "Why would the Maker create mages? Why give us these powers at all? The templars claim to take His side, and maybe they're right to."

"Maybe it's all just a test."

The two immediately become inseparable. It's a friendship built on a foundation of desperation and fear.

Emma cries that night.

)O(

In the morning, every mage is made to file into the chapel for prayers. Compared to the Tower's chapel, it is absolutely enormous. Emma can scarcely see the ceiling. There must be hundreds of people here, including templars. Wisps of smoke from the various candles and incense placed on the altar float about, stinging her eyes.

"Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him." a priestess chanted. Oh, how many times has she heard that particular verse? As a child in the Circle, you are made to recite it over and over. It is a punishment for bad behavior.

"Foul and corrupt are they, who have taken His gift, and turned it against His children." That doesn't seem fair to Emma. She is not foul nor corrupt, and she never uses magic to harm anyone unless they provoke her first.

"They shall be named maleficar, accursed ones." the priestess seems to be talking directly to her. "They shall find no rest in this world or beyond." Emma swallows hard and tries not to look guilty. Maybe it is a test. If the Maker creates a world in which she must exist to be hated for everything that she is, then so be it. Who needs rest anyway?

As the Chant of Light says, she will endure. Emma will go through these trials and emerge even stronger than before. But most importantly, she will escape this awful place lest it kill her.


End file.
